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Knees
by Laura McCarty
Another knee bends in anguish
beneath a too-heavy heart;
out of rope, gives up hope
a faith pulled apart
Rip up the memories,
too much energy spent
on touch without promise
and words never meant
Another knee bends in toil
behind the mouth of the mine;
Work the black seam as ordered
Don't speak up, stay in line
Inhale enough coal dust
to blacken a lung
enrich the bosses
as you orphan your young
Another knee bends in sorrow
beside a stinking bouquet;
another eager young hero
one more life pulled away
Ribbons and medals
a poor comfort now
for compelling young courage
into dogmatic vow
Another knee bends in service
before an unzippered fly
Just a way to make money?
Just a tired old lie
An age-old profession
unwillingly staffed;
One gets satisfaction,
the other the shaft.
Another knee bends in homage
between creaking worn pews
to a God without mercy
who forgot the Good News
Angry and vengeful
more debased than divine
who will punish, for one sin,
the whole of mankind
Millions of years
to raise up on our feet,
just a moment of meanness
we're back down on our knees
Where's the gene sequence?
What alters this fate?
What change will allow us
to keep our legs straight?
This poem was inspired by a Damien Rice lyric about hurt.
Laura McCarty is a freelance writer who has written essays
and profile pieces for websites such as
HistoryLink.org
and Literacy-Source.org.
She also enjoys musing on her life in Seattle in this early 21st century.
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