Song For A Song

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Amina Shareef Ali

5:39

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Saturday night, I longed for some company
All my creations had ceased to resemble me
Or else I'd ceased to resemble them
Grazing my overgrown heart-garden
Your captive spirit, plucked from the divine
Fixed to form, forced into meter and rhyme
You cried out, as must every thing that's born
Song in its sadness, beast with its horn
Loss and shame, weakness and sin
Grace and virtue, too, were my invention
Your suffering great, my respite brief
Ye vessel for your father's grief
Rendered thus, I delivered you
Into this ragged yard of pitiful brutes
This puny oath you might take some comfort in
I will never cast you out of that sorry kingdom

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