The Mirth Of William Poem by James Merchant
The Mirth Of William
William wailed wisely
That a handful of nails
Are meant for hands and feet
And slivers to be from crosses
Rough and uneven
Yet their meaning is still unhindered
William washed his face
Laughed at his own reflection and cried
A ceremony much like his praying
He unhinged his jaw for breath
Took it slowly and softly in,
With blessed control and boundless penance
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4/20/2024 6:44:25 AM # 1.0.0.1119
