I do not want to stand
Beside you at the feast;
You eat of rot. Or walk
Beside you; your pace is not my pace. To follow
You or be with you I lose.
I’ll turn back to my roots
Making my own way through
Fields you’ll never know
Singing my own songs
To a different tune,
Shouting my own
Hallelujahs…
Copyright 1971, Zack Gilbert, Third World Press.
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