Bend Our Wounded Bodies

Bend Our Wounded Bodies
© Surazeus
2026 09 05

I cannot bury thoughts in open ground 
except they sprout to angels without wings 
who plow deep soil and plant aggressive seeds 
with plan to claim this land as ancient home 
based on weird paradigm that graves may mark 
our territory where we live and die. 

Heart quickened with tellurian redolence, 
sweet scented by dream-rotten flesh of gods, 
I pour libation of mysterious wine 
in soil for skulls of prophets to imbibe 
that fuels intense expression of deep faith 
far-rooted from great mountains of contempt. 

Against now-sudden freakish snow of hope 
we bend our wounded bodies to contain 
enduring hope for time-unspooling truth, 
connived by thieves who wear official robes 
by claiming land our fathers tilled as theirs 
despite objection at injustice done. 

Contorted by fierce loneliness of faith, 
propped up by worthless prayers for liberty, 
we grasp contingent way for solving how 
dire vanishment at stark cadence of hate 
constrains alert expansion beyond pain 
when house door of our hope is locked by greed. 

Sweet berries may sustain our bitterness 
that buoyant urgency drives our vain quest, 
though we dare retain our false bravery 
with dreamless laughter of indifferent storms 
that thrash our straw homes into swirls of power, 
unbound by helpless acceptance of fate. 

Preserved by peaceful absences of fate 
that twist our mountain hearts in coils of rage, 
we search for cold wind in fear-jagged cave 
that hides unspeakable truth in bright names 
we share with sparkling ardency of change, 
still mirrored by dark river of our faith. 

On last day of the world near edge of truth 
we pluck fresh fruit of knowledge from the tree 
that transforms bodies of ancestral dreams 
to pulchritude of loyal innocence, 
because this land is formed from hidden graves 
where ghosts of people whisper how to live. 

Down stone-paved trails of jagged opulence 
we search for beauty blooming from cracked skulls 
to find soul of our world in faceless gods 
who loom in shining clouds above brave hills, 
revealing wounds that strength hearts with faith 
till we become dirt of the signless road.