God's half-nelson brought me low--
and now I wait for where and when
contrition will let all my anger go
I've been corrected--that is plain--
shown again the wreckage by my pride--
I've nothing to do but yell "Uncle!" and then
let the hold loosen leaving me on my side
I stared up from the canvas of the world
the One invisibly staring down--
at least no grandstand on my curled
body as humility glorified some forgotten crown...
Content (c) 2008-2011 Philip Milito.
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