I’m no slave, yet you pit me here.
The verge of death's grave.
To sleep, weep in the mudded dirt.
You take away my body’s tattered shirt.
I’m no slave, you wretched tyrant.
You loud- mouthed, fat- bellied master.
It is not you, whom I fear, no.
It’s the Lord above, who sent me here.
He sent me to this troubled land.
To stand  ground, dig deep my soul.
It is he whom I fear  most of all.
Without him, I will never stand tall.
Take what you will, beat me as you must.
I will endure, to the Lord I give my trust.
Written:  August 25/2006