The Herd Calls Me Poem by Naveed Akram

I avenge the herd, it returns and calls me,
Withering in the wind I ransack the herd.
I conjure the sins apt to decide my fate,
My miracle is a ginger to taste, a felony.

My murder is complete, my message is dear
To my heart that reviles the heart of listening.
My kiss is straight, like a road to condemnation,
The murder is near the murder so distant.

This much is known, that wise people say waters
Swirl and roll like blood coagulating from injury;
The broken limbs need discarding with bone,
Finishing strokes of the heart are clearer.