the hospital bed on which I lay
(the iron bars
behind which I stay)
snagged here to suffer a great loss,
amputated leg to be my crux
so I devise a sturdy escape
(I must be free
of the wound, agape)
from a piece of Adam’s tree
crafted solely by me
I made for myself a wooden leg
(to take the place
of my cursed maime)
for there is no other way
but the way I make
although I see I’m not yet free
(from the crux
of my injury)
I reject the tree on calvary
for my vainglorious cross
where then is my autonomous fate?
(I thought by now
I could escape)
the piece of wood meant to redeem
a splinter in my side
(Wooden legs and prison chains
begin to look the same
when self reliance
becomes man at his highest)
ah, and now I see my own tree rots
(this injury I
vainly fought)
a different tree I now must seek
a shoot from David’s stump
but to realize this is not enough
(still I take up
the wrong cross!)
I’m afraid my counterfeit topiary
brings me to my grave
(at last
it is finished)
Depart my self-made promenade!
Here I’m dying
yet chains are gone!
From rotten leg to tree of true love,
sin to sprouting dawn