And Weariness Is My NameA Poem by Ron SandersMelancholy march to Virtue.
And Weariness Is My Name
I have weathered wolves and deities, fought horrors dreamt and real, kept my word and my identity, though the system bade me fail. I have championed my brother, taken succor with the wheal, sourced my secret tides for good and ill, borne my pain beyond the pale. I have rendered unto god and man the body of my pride, till nought remained to mark that space where faith and fact collide, with honesty as my guide.
I was written on this rock to bleed, consigned to sweat and soil; a thing unique in craft and stance, made common by the seams. Like all my peers, resigned to chance, to tedium and toil, I caught my heels on happenstance, and blew my youth on dreams. Yet while I am I aim to mend, to never bend or cede; integrity the staff I raise, and all the lamp I’ll need, with doggedness as my creed.
I have battled man’s disdain of man, have argued every view; a noble goal that took its toll, my final days are few. With broken cross and broken back I’ve come to common ground, to trade this light for entropy, to lay my candle down. I am he, I am Humanity, in all his pride and shame; black, white, yellow, red, and brown; unlike, yet all the same. And as I near that vile pit to quit this passing flame, with one last leap of faith I’ll claim the soil whence I came. And Weariness is my name. © 2024 Ron Sanders |
StatsAuthorRon SandersSan Pedro, CAAboutFree copies of the full-color, fleshed-out pdf file for the poem Faces, with its original formatting, will be made available to all sincere readers via email attachments, at [email protected]. .. more..Writing
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