The Master Servant Poem by Quame Boatmann

I bow in your presence
In reverence to your service
I nod to your utterance
Wary not to mar my oath

I am the feet
That runs your errands
And your voice
That reaches your people’s ears
I am the cook
That feasts your belly
I am your chamberlain
And upon my shoulders,
Your household rests

I am the knight
That guards your night
Whiles you breath
Like the old corn mill
I hum in silence

I wage your wars
And shield your nation
Against your fatal foes
All my glory, I give to you
And the fruits of my labour
Are stored on your barns

May I have this moment, my lord?
To make my desire known
For once hear my voice
I make you great
So please be pleased