Brick

April2018

I’m a brick
set within a wall
thick within a church
though have little part at all
in quiet prayers
or peaceful layers of robes and gown.

I do have faith
in the master though,
as he set down his hod
and began his toil
though he could have set me any place:
within the soil to form a road,
or to take the heavy load
of the sad solitude of a prison cell.

We, my brethren and I, cannot tell
which setting will be ours or our last
as, though set fast, for now,
our mortar can be worked loose
and we, in turn, set free.

I’m just a brick
and whatever this building is
I can definitely see
I am a part of it.

Author: George McDermid

I scratch out poems, and the odd little tale. Mostly for my own amusement.

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