Monday 6 April 2015

2015.7 - Beholden

It seems that mine's the nicest
Head to fit the block
My disappointments slip
Like icing sugar into your cause's maw
While you - your own cat's paw
Whisper stridently of "sacrifice"
A sententious lesson for "us all."

Your heels are clean;
We see you at the back of the temple,
Another's blood daubed across
Your forehead like a frown
"Ah penitence!" you sigh,
And, before the smoke clears,
You disappear.

Give me the strength
To keep my own
To rise from where I'm
Thrown across the altar
Of your wandering ambition,
To listen for my own voice,
Follow it to do more than
Just recognise, but keep on rising,
Bringing my fellow sacrifices
To their feet.

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