Joseph
who stitched the row of brass buttons
glinting in the cold sun
while horses stamped impatiently
bits jangling
whose hand carefully chose the decorative plumage
adorning the General’s chapeau
so a legion would be inspired to march behind?
whose thought
to cherish the plaster image
blood stained clothing
sweat marked but plain
now a shroud of faith?
the solemn eye laughter stilled
fulgurate of conviction extinguished
only to rise again and again
a phoenix of testimony—reborn witnessed
shaping millions
taming the natural man
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