By J.J. Tindall
Bird of Prey
I won’t say
I’m no longer a child but
I am not the child
I used to be.
I didn’t grow up
In the wild, I was raised
Tame.
But I’ve always had my claws.
Got good at certain games.
Adapted to certain immutable laws.
Life is a nightmare
Of relentless fury.
The charm wears off
As the bodies pile up.
I fight like the devil
For my comfort and joy,
Comfort and joy.
My heart is Rome
And my arteries
Aqueducts
Of blood.
I fear evil. I am nobody’s fool
But my own.
I am an owl
Of fortitude, an osprey
Of faith.
I channel my rages
Like blood down an aqueduct,
Trying to burn
Symbols into the stone.
Must Rome burn for me to sing?!
God is prey.
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J.J. Tindall is the Beachwood’s poet-in-residence. He welcomes your comments. Chicagoetry is an exclusive Beachwood collection-in-progress.
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More Tindall:
* Chicagoetry: The Book
* Ready To Rock: The Music
* Kindled Tindall: The Novel
Posted on November 26, 2012