Orphans of God

September 1, 2010

I will rise from my bed
with a question again
as I work to inherit
the restless wind

the view from my window
is cold and obscene
I want to touch
what my eyes haven’t seen

but they have packaged our virtue
in cellulose dreams
and sold us the remnants
til our pockets are clean

til our hopes fall ’round our feet
like the dust of dead leaves
and we end up looking
like what we believe

we are soot-covered urchins
running wild and unshod
we will always be remembered
as the orphans of God

like bees in a bottle
we are flying at fate
beating our wings
against the walls of this place

unaware that the struggle
is the blood of the proof
in choosing to believe
the unbelievable truth

but they have captured our siblings
they rendered them mute
disputed our lineage
and poisoned our roots

we have bought from the brokers
who have broken their oaths
and we’re out on the streets
with a lump in our throats

we are soot-covered urchins
running wild and unshod
we will always be remembered
as the orphans of God

they will dig up these ruins
and make flutes of our bones
and blow a hymn to the memory
of the orphans of God

– John Mark Heard (1951-1992)

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