Posted by by Ronald J. Hoffman
I walk through the corridor
I light the candle to see
I brought the proof
of what is prophecy.
I walk in the room
Discover the place I’ve been
In the corner of the womb
of our disgraced existence.
I look upon the shelf
pull down the book to see
the names and faces I’ve been
who brought me my story.
I rattle these chains again
prick and pierce my pains again
I stick my hand inside
to feel this wound of sin.
New truth I can’t discover
I can’t believe another
Not another word from your lips
what ordered this for me
doesn’t intend for anyone to see.
I can’t dispel the proof
of what’s becoming
I can’t deny the ruse
was just too cunning.
It made us make amends
It made us save a day
It made us hate ourselves
It made us pull away.
And now we’re beside ourselves
like a hungry child awaiting.
We put the book back on the shelf
with lifted hands and shaking.
We’ve cauterized the wound
We stamp our feet upon the floor
We’ve given all our lives
Now we’ve shut the door.
In this hour of our power
Let us scatter our seed
Let us grow new roots
Let us burn away the weeds.
Copyright 2017 Ronald J. Hoffman, Roaming Snyder Publishing.
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