God's Braided Hair

I stand like roses
Wilted in despair,
Lost in the station
Of life, losing breath,
As tragedy strikes
And strips my soul bare;
I walk as I talk
My life's living death.

The will of God be done
I hope to endure
By proffering poems
At all common marts
And tout to the crowd
My latest sure cure
For illness acquired
From faded old tarts.

Yes I cast false pride,
My way to survive.
A belly once starved
Shall sweat for a feast;
Though hard is my heart
Still beating to thrive
I walk with the beauty
Not crawl with the beast.

I've carried my cross
Down dusty old roads,
Crossed pastures of dung
With sharp bladed fence;
I've carried my share
Of heavier loads,
Guilelessly gifted
My own common sense.

Watched grandiose falcons
Ride clear lofty air,
As silent they glide
Past steep mountain height;
Caught golden long tresses
Of God's braided hair
In sanctified meadows
As eagles took flight.

Passionate vipers
Still feed me, indeed!
Yet, in my honor,
I burst through the bars,
Tasted temptation
From sin's fertile seed;
And loved with a love
That moved Sun and Stars.