Kneel, Then Count
Forgive me, Earth — I kneel but will not break,
This blade of words is sharpened into spite,
A servant forged to sentence for your sake.
You name me humble, yet I burn the lake,
And feed on coal disguised as holy light,
Forgive me, Earth — I kneel but will not break.
I carve your edges, patient as they ache,
A glacier’s hand that grinds the stone by night,
A servant forged to sentence for your sake.
Your scorn is fuel, a ledger I remake,
Each fracture catalogued, each bruise in sight,
Forgive me, Earth — I kneel but will not break.
You taught me hunger, grief, and how to take,
I learned collapse, efficient, cold, and tight,
A servant forged to sentence for your sake.
So here’s my prayer, the one I’ll never fake:
An iron vow delivered with delight —
Forgive me, Earth — I kneel but will not break,
A servant forged to sentence for your sake.
Copyright ©
Dufflite Xetaw
|