As deep as this knife
cleaves a canyon in my chest,
As clear as my ribs protect my lungs,
As futile their structure to withstand this force,
Sickness infiltrates the body any which way it can.

The symptoms portray the rotten core
Of my physical being;
Doubled over in agony
And gasping for clean air.

My mind is marinated in the pain of living,
How can a soul breathe amidst
The taunts of the healthy and wealthy?
The corrupt successes who would
Sell a thousand families for a two-door fridge.

Has my service incurred wrath?
Does my secret wretchedness stain
The good I try to display?
I know I deserve this toil but surely
They deserve to serve the contagious with smiles.


As deep as this knife
Cuts a canyon in my chest,
As pure as I am defiled,
As wide as this sickness spreads, and still wider,
And as honest, more honest than my pride wont let me be,
Is your compassion for the bleeding.

For you desire to know me
And for that you give me strength,
You desire an intimacy that
Emulsifies all infecting hate,
Your outrageous forgiveness gives
All I need not to resent and
Not to wallow in this self-pity.

Your majesty is revealed in
Socially bizarre service and
Psychologically nonsensical sacrifice
And I, willingly, kiss the ground before your feet
And know security.

An attempt at an lament with resolve, December 2010.


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