Later on the road I met a man who explained
that even as I fled my deception was already formed.
I had been a herder for all my days,
so when it was proposed that the labor of seven years
would, in turn, grant me a great love, it was not hard
to accept. After many changes of the tide I did despair,
beating my chest and wailing in a manner beyond compare,
“Shall I break my back for three more years,
so that, tearful, she may tell me of my wasted time?
Why not turn this shepherd’s crook into a spear
and then wander for my remaining life
until an novel enemy presents herself?
I will toss to her my weapons and place my hands
behind my head and tell her to gash my side like Christ’s,
but she will care little for those ancient rites
that best belong to unread books upon a shelf,
and shake her head, dropping the spear onto the veldt,
and walk deliberately away with the sky balanced atop her hair,
whistling slowly as the sun burns up in the night,
before turning with eyes like hellfire and giving to me a new name."
Later on the road I met a man who explained
that even as I fled my deception was already formed.
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