I Will Call To The South Someday Poem by Saul McCandless

I will call to the South someday
For winds so warming and flourished
Nourished by the tendrils of Law
That by a nation, God could claw
His divine mark upon the boasting
Toast a leather belt around your hide
To inflict what has been coming
A dumbing down of your sickest treats
At your feet and upon my grave
The closest of hands to apologetically wave
My soul is splintered in rust with nail
Fail the baker and carpenters trades
So let us not spend time in earnest
Rather, find a dear friend in a book
Take a look at sacred texts
And corrupt not another sister
For I am grieving as it is.