In a Past Generation

In a past generation, I was the scourge of men.
I've tried hard to keep my head up high.
Now I'm to be the scourge of women
And the God of Ancients gives a sigh.

Forced down to the ground
With nowhere to go.
To my right or my left
To scatter seeds so.

There's no accounting of my actions on Earth
The fate of my hands, soon,
To give me birth

"Come quickly, fate and Lord Jesus.
My life is in my hands.
God of Heaven alone can prove me righteous
And God, with me, break my bands!"

Abuse has been my middle name,
I've often wondered why -
Righteousness girded my footsteps -
The price was never high.

(Author's note: This poem won an award from "The International Society of Poets" in 2001)