old to new
Based on the Novel, Oranges are not the only fruit - jeanette winterson
A Mark against your purity
You are my Virgin Mary mother,
I am your deaf missionary,
Lost amongst the words you throw to shame me,
You taught me rules to read the world,
I am outcast in these moral cursed lines.
My cat-grey girl gave me up for you
Marked a page in the bible for me,
Denied and given a cross to bear,
I slept like I knew the right path,
I could see the marks across my palms.
I became a man in all your eyes,
You let me teach them right from wrong,
Took the blame when you thought I was lost,
I was the little lamb you took to be slaughtered.
Exercise the demons you think live within,
Make my own society for the lost again.
I spat at the feet of him,
That was for all of you who know,
For those that pat my arm and forgive,
I’m not going to change for forgiveness.
To you I was the mark upon your purity,
I found beyond this love you made a life,
A world when the ice would melt my heart.
You softened like a harshly worn carpet,
Still bowed in front of him up there,
Maybe you’ll tell me one day where all this begun.
Come in Manchester, This is kindly light.
