THE MIND OF AGONY
Naked whipped by the winds of change
I can only stand still as the sting
of the cold lash is laid upon the backs
of so many who lined up aside me
many who are scarred enough already.
Too tired to fight
and well beaten
before chained to the whipping post,
will no one scream for pain, for justice?
Not a sound is heard
‘cept the cutting of the wind
by the whip.
I have no unscarred skin
so it takes the howling wind more effort
to break open my skin that my blood may run.
This pleases them who despise me for my laziness
at not having stored up a room
of sparkling stones and gold enough.
I trusted, never having learned that trust is a fools earnings.
I will stand here my back flayed and frozen
that the blood will not come running out,
I will not pleasure them with blood nor tears.
Then I will be turned again
that the bark may bite deeper
into my flesh while the snap of the whip
on the wind works my face and chest
but carefully never hitting my eye.
I must see what I have worked for
as it is driven off in an armored vehicle.
© M Durfee