Like Bread
By Mark Edgemon

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Like Bread
By Mark Edgemon

His hands shapes the bread,
Kneading the flour from the wheat,
Thrashing the kernels from the chaff,
Pounding it into fine powder,
Before baking it in a fiery furnace, until...
It became me!
 
"Where is my salt?" I asked the Baker.
"That, you will put in yourself!" He answered.
 
The Master put me through a lot,
Watching closely, every step of the process,
Until I was finally ready, to feed others.
Isn't that why we are here?
 
The End

Go on to next poem by Mark Edgemon: Love...Is a Many Splintered Thang!
Return to: The Works of Mark Edgemon