Hauled before my maker
On a sled of steel wool,
i cry for mercy.
Were it not for
The real suffering
In the world,
Mine would snatch
Greatness from the heavens.
i reflect:
As we crawled from dank pools,
Flapped toward Eden with our fins,
Were we not constantly
In mortal agony?
Was our pain
Not simply
A fact,
A given?
As we rise
Rung by rung
On Jacob's ladder
We begin to forget
The primordial bog
In which its legs
Are sunk.
i will not rest tonight.
i will be aflame with fever, but
i will pray for peace,
And will gladly suffer
In my small, comfortable way,
So that, in time,
i may again rejoice
With all
Your children.
--Mr. Gobley
1 comment:
A sled of steel wool!!
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