For the luck of a rover
the preacher is willing to forsake
his pulpit and the audience.
There is no worse suffering more
than that of a man whose words
come bouncing back as arrows
repelled and now are lodged
thick in his soul, the weight
becoming his age and surrender.
When the luck of the rover comes
the preacher must decide
whether to dismantle his lectern
and send the audience away
or just leave empty the scaffold
as audience waits on trashing feet
for the next hanging man or
the fear it so closely guards
in its imprisoned heart.
Then the preacher shall no more be,
with the rover’s luck like evening cloak
securing him to a loser’s journey
though he must keep on hoping
for that caged fear to be free
or a better preacher than he is
to stare down from his pulpit
before it too crumbles with the ravages
of arrows and age.
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