The Grand Executioner
What rouses disappointment now,
I will cherish when lamplight fades.
Aching muscles of too-long days,
Worn-out shoes on creaky floors,
Duties, chores, elusive truth.
When I look back from my grave,
I will see pain as a bright flower,
Defeat as a pleasure only partially fulfilled,
Hard labor as a blessing to idle fingers.
I will yearn for agony again,
The relief it brings in bouts of calm.
I will weep as the weary multitude goes forth,
Starving children, forsaken mothers,
Fathers driven by shame into the ground.
I will aim my bow at the murderer who smiles,
Then turn it on myself, the grand executioner.
I will watch dumb Goliath sleep,
Then slit his throat with song.
So says the stone beneath your feet.
What is impossible now, will soon be born.
January 5, 2006
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