My brothers did not cast me down the well
And never asked for more than I could do
Or sold me off, as far as I can tell,
To persons most unscrupulously shrewd.
I never dreamed that I would Lord above
These men or make them orbit in my wake,
I did not carry coats with colors of
Some land beyond desire, that would take
A bargaining of worlds to have outbid.
But in my time away I hardened still:
Buried as if a rock modestly hid
Within a tiny garden growing, filled
With passionate ideas, wrath unsurpassed
Yet with the fate of any stone: cragfast.
May 10, Revised May 12
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