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Poem

The silence of years I break now
That I should not die entwined in pain
For I have lived this savage vow
To be a man, and pure against your stain
You use words and stories
Like false ladders of Jacob to the sky
Changing moods for sympathies
That cannot your coldness pry.

I am a man, and father of few, but must
Bear the sin of father of all
Sin I did not father you, nor fenced the lust
That torments you at the slippery wall
I gave my all to you, which you claim
To the world as your effort of your sweat
And before my children spoiled my name
Who surrendered more than you forget.

But O the gall, the bitter gall and sleep
Bruised, for I did search for my blame
To be your puppet once again. I leap
To die, and found in it truth, so I keep
Still my manhood beyond my pain
Missed only my children in your chain
Waiting like a chrysalis to rise again  
And loll in sunshine of joy's domain.

Yet, I break not silence for self alone, but
For children now and after lynched by disaster
Who must crawl through misery and the rut
Without understanding, I pour too my alabaster
Bringing praise tongues swaddled in lies
Through the scourge of malice and lies, defying
The expectation of jealous eyes
I come, against recall's rage, exemplifying.

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