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 weal,
sourced my secret tides for good and ill,
bore 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.
And Honesty is my guide.

I was written on this rock to bleed,
consigned to sweat and soil,
a thing unique in cloth and creed,
made common by the seams.
Like all my peers resigned to chance,
to tedium and toil,
I cut my teeth on circumstance,
and lost my way in dreams.
Yet while I breathe I pledge to rise,
to march and never yield—
Equality, my driving cause,
Resolve, the spear I wield.
And Dignity is my shield.

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 or 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 claim
the soil whence I came.
And Weariness is my name.



Thanks for reading And Weariness Is My Name.

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copyright 2020 by Ron Sanders.

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