lie broken behind me--
I've had reality
pounded into me--
the snares of perfection
have been evaded
and no more this life
will I let myself be bound--
of course some damage
has been done and will not be fixed--
as Leonard once put
in his youthful wisdom
"a scar is the Word made flesh"--
and so a reminder remains to me
worn like an emblem of arrogance defeated--
but when you see me hobble toward you
feel no pity and do not mock--
that I hobble at all is fine
and what I go on to is my own reckoning--
my own freedom--
my own road--
with hopefully my own renewal of hope to arrive...where?
Content (c) 2008-2011 Philip Milito.
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