David W. M., Iowa: The Maker

IOWA PRISON WRITING PROJECT


The Maker

DAVID W. M., IOWA


The sound of silence deafening . . . as I await the final reckoning All I am you brought to be . . . what is it you want from me? Emptiness surrounding me . . . so much that I cannot breathe I no longer have the will to be . . . why can’t you just set me free? Future dreams that were so grand . . . birds in the bush—not in the hand No one seems to understand . . . this is not what I had planned Why is it you came for me . . . and hung there on a lifeless tree? Is this what you came to see . . . the long-awaited end of me? Walk upon the road you paved . . . that leads you to an open grave Lay inside the bed you made . . . and know this time you won’t be saved Welcome to your destiny . . . behold your final victory This is what you longed to be . . . put out of your misery One moment is our history . . . the future is now and still to be The now is all will ever be . . . forever throughout eternity All that was and is to be . . . now and to infinity Incarnate is eternity . . . suspended on a lifeless tree Listen as the songbird sings . . . the spirit whispers sacred things In the loneliness that darkness brings . . . hidden is the King of Kings The essence of divinity . . . united with humanity Behold the greatest mystery . . . the maker of both you and me

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