Feast of the Carrion

No, I will not find solace in despair and make a feast of carrion.

I will not dissolve (perhaps loosened) the last cable of man.

or get tired of it and cry "I can't take it anymore". --I can.

I can. I can choose hope, I can hope for the dawn, and not choose to leave the world.

But, alas, dreadful you, why do you stare with dark, greedy eyes

Why do you stare at my bruised and battered body? Why do you use the lion's paw on me?

And shake roughly over my head your feet that curl the world?

And in the midst of the storm, slap me who fled from you in a frenzy?

Why? Tell my husks to fly and the grain to stay, clean and pure.

And, in hardship, in confusion, since I have (as if) kissed

scepter and hand, my heart has licked the power, stolen the joy, and cheered.

But who does it cheer? The hero of heaven, who fell on me and stepped on me?

Or do you cheer me who wrestles with him? Which one is it? All night long.

A dark year, unfortunate me (O God!) Wrestling with my God.