When memory\'s prick revives the sting of yesterday\'s thorn
and the scent of rot on today\'s breeze is born
breath deep sleep, that buries wool of shame shorn
pluck out the poisoned arrow fetid and worn
Open wounds past as a feathered scar will last
Birds of carrion footprints in cement cast
Bend the wind to your heels pinned a sail for your mast
Peel away body of clay your core is far more vast