I am skin no more,
spirit of being overpowers within no more.
Like a mangled corpse, I lay
upon corpses of my kin, akin
to my disposition;
shrouded beneath the snakeskin,
a skeletal aberration.
Lest judgement befall
the shroud conceal
within the ochre storm
smithereens of my men.
Lest repentance reign
the shroud conceal
woeful silence of my soul,
hereat it not quieten
the songs of wren.
For as the slingshot vanquished Goliath;
"Behold! The strength of Jehovah!"
So shall grief vanquish David
for his sins of Bathsheba.
And if the mighty
lain upon knees
prays upon his hollow flesh
it is not misery that shrouds
it is not grief that veils
if naught sorrow,
repentance alone will carry your bæl.
For when the swords shall never depart from his house
David too cried,
"all the night make I my bed to swim; I water my couch with my tears."











