Canon Captive

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Father forgive me—I am not yours.
Reliquish control. I renounce
All claims upon me—I’m God’s alone.
No possession produces real treasure.
Creation is God’s reflection; we are kin—
Every creature to us, we to all of them.
Sovereignty is God’s alone; earth our mother.
Called mad before thrown into canon,
Outflinging an image of little resemblance.

POET’S NOTE:
An acrostic Scorched Sunday poem. Part of my Scorched Strays collection. A reflection on rupture, renunciation, and what remains when a life is claimed, reclaimed, and reshaped.


© 2026 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved.