Having carried the flack
Of men on my back,
For over a thousand years.

I now toss off the chains,
Wrought from your pain,
And smelt from the fire of your fears.

I will carry no more,
The priest and the whore,
Nor my heart bare the caged bird that sings.

And from the knot on my back,
That has borne all that flack
I will sprout the most glorious wings.

SJL, 2018

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