The Ill-Made Knight

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Sean Leonard

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Don't look at me
I am a stranger
My voice has no timbre
I am a danger
I am a lump of
Protean clay
Clawing myself to be
Molded and greater
On the road they
Call me a fighter
Someone who loves Mary
and murders beside her
This is my trade
All I can offer
Blood on this day
So there's no blood tomorrow
Blade passes over
Here I am kneeling
Before the God who can
Act without thinking
Stare at the ground
I look back in marble
A knight fit for mansions
Of daub and of wattle
On my soul I pray for answer
Give a miracle I can deliver
On my soul I pray for answer
Give a miracle I can deliver
On my soul I pray for answer
Give a miracle I can deliver
On my soul I pray for answer
Give a miracle I can deliver
Glory to He that can
Make me a savior
I have no one else
I cannot be disfavoured
I need no crown
And no scepter to swing
Just let me be well
On the inside at least
I hear your voice
Though it's all that I offer
Lend me your gaze
To make the world softer

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