He leaves the village and takes his bow
and soon in silence his prey he’ll know
he’ll kill a boar and his family is fed
life in the margins is that or be dead.
He’ll cut the beast down the centre line
give half to his neighbour, he is that kind
this is their way, these people are fair
with their neighbours and friends they always share.
But let us not forget the soul of the boar
He reached into its heart and his then did soar
the beast served its purpose, fed people, went rotten
its soul though was pure, and by Him, not forgotten
©Joe Wilson – All His children… 2014