Imperfectly To Song

Like me,

my Poetry is far from perfect,

—a verbal oxen gored

 

Like me,

my words are often frail and broken,

—still crying to be heard

 

In me,

the message has found its student,

—to very humbly expound

 

In me,

the truth can accept a birthmark,

—for a promise more profound

 

Unto me,

the burden is left to finish,

—my life to pledge headlong

 

Unto me,

the words now free—unsentenced,

change imperfectly to song

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2016)