I have been using someone's poetry as a signature on my emails since when I first opened my first email account. And till today, i never bothered looking up where I found those lines, and always put [unknown] as credits for it. Today I took the initiative to find the author, and it is one R S Thomas, who lived between 1913 - 2000, and is Welsh. I found one similarity with him, both our dads were sea captains, and needless to say, lots of differences - he was a priest and also nominated for the nobel prize! meanwhile, I am I [another stolen phrase, credit Queensryche].
Here
I am a man now.
Pass your hand over my brow.
You can feel the place where the brains grow.
I am like a tree,
From my top boughs I can see
The footprints that led up to me.
There is blood in my veins
That has run clear of the stain
Contracted in so many loins.
Why, then, are my hands red
With the blood of so many dead?
Is this where I was misled?
Why are my hands this way
That they will not do as I say?
Does no God hear when I pray?
I have no where to go
The swift satellites show
The clock of my whole being is slow,
It is too late to start
For destinations not of the heart.
I must stay here with my hurt.
Poetry and facts lifted from Poem Hunter dot com
Here
I am a man now.
Pass your hand over my brow.
You can feel the place where the brains grow.
I am like a tree,
From my top boughs I can see
The footprints that led up to me.
There is blood in my veins
That has run clear of the stain
Contracted in so many loins.
Why, then, are my hands red
With the blood of so many dead?
Is this where I was misled?
Why are my hands this way
That they will not do as I say?
Does no God hear when I pray?
I have no where to go
The swift satellites show
The clock of my whole being is slow,
It is too late to start
For destinations not of the heart.
I must stay here with my hurt.
Poetry and facts lifted from Poem Hunter dot com
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