Feast, my dear Lord, on my rotting flesh;
My putrid decay, my stenching corpse.
Pray, pulse me with maggots as I lay,
Leaking sin, staining this pure, pure spring.
Bring in the fowl and the flies to work:
Feast on the filth that fills me so foul.
Plough my carcass, turn me upright,
Bring the breeze, and breed in me life.
Bring the hosts of horror and haunt,
Eat up my dead and darkened mank.
Let my dank be food for the army You use,
Till this soil sprouts green shoots anew.
I am roadkill, strewn by this highway sign,
Leading wayfarers astray down the fatal way.
Yet happy am I on this casualty day,
Feeding life that shines on my blackened decay.
