Walking With The Dead Poem by Shiraz Bautista

Although I am here before you, as a man put on trial, I feel anything but blessed.

I stand before your kingdom, guilty of defiling your sacred temple.

Buried in shame, swamped in sin.
Physically living, yet spiritually dead.

To others, I could be hailed a conqueror of nations, But in your presence, I am merely a slave that is enslaved by his bestial brutishness.

As gushes of impulsivity cripple my weary mind, I feel as if I am drowning, losing control.

Sinking to the bottom, into the abyss I go.

Oh, heavenly one,

Grant me the guiding light,
the iron might,
to forge ahead

Do not forsake me,
cursed and blind,
walking among the dead