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Break on through

Take a battering ram to the other side The recoil will do me harm A knife and spoon will suffice Break the gates violently with arms It will seal itself again and entice It will swallow my body with charms It will spit me out again with vices Put down that aching piece of log Give these hands other than a mace They are meant for more than war Give it a last heave-ho just to tease Grab any pen knife, make a scar Whittle that mad log to a canoe Each shaving an ordinary day Look not upon the door with lust Hop in the dugout after years of fray The current takes me to the other side Break through the door every May But I hold onto that old log that died The door on the river never sways My citadel’s veil unbreached cries It’s hard to face the day without a ram Shave off my horns to be a lamb My shepherd beckons on His raft Lift me up from muddy waters damp Onto my battering ram lashed Break on through the other side Day to day may I be washed Hour to hour may hopes be dashed The gate is straight ahead Let go of the ram for good Kindly cut the door with scissors Only sheared lambs enter

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Hilda Greenhough

Date: 4/16/2024 6:51:00 PM

This is a unique poem. I like the transcending motive of the armaments becoming a canoe. It is a deep poem of peace. Thank you for writing.

Triny Xiang
Date: 4/16/2024 11:03:00 PM

Thank you. Every wooden canoe starts one shave at a time. Every camel needs to be shaved to go through the eye of the needle. The rich man must slim down to achieve peace. Glad you liked it.