(August 1991)
My face is bloodied
from tripping over my own feet
while holding my hands behind my back.
I murmur and complain
in the numbing pain,
but refuse to untie the laces.
Can I continue this pace;
this macabre up and down dance
with no movement?
I am on the outside on the inside
and it is my duty
to reach up to pull myself out
as I push myself down.
The blood has been shed.
My testimony stands still.
The blood has been shed.
The Spirit moves on.
The blood has been shed.
Grasp at the straw that is big enough
to break the dragon's back.
Cauterize the putrifying sores of my mind;
Purge out the dregs of the wine
from the fruit of the forbidden tree.
Grasp at the straw.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment