Huyshe Yeatman-Biggs

Encased in an iron sarcophagus, I lay for centuries,

Surrounded by stained glass and reverential stone,

My only companions were hushed prayers

And the soft caress of holy fingers.

An innocent, I was bombarded

With sizzling thunder and hot lightning;

In one moment my sanctuary was split open,

I was buried beneath molten sand and crushed stone.

But there was no quiet decay amongst the ruins,

My disfigured face exposed to the air,

They beat at me with hammer and anvil

And created me anew for their purpose.

The birds perch in victory on my feet,

The irreverent clicks and chatter my daily prayers,

While my name questionable trivia

And the rain the tears for my new purpose.

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