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Wheldrake -> The Brand (2/21/2010 12:33:42 PM)
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Think of this as your birthmark,
Welcoming you into my world,
Initiating your second life.
It hurts to be reborn.
But soon even you will barely remember
That you used to wear clothes and look me in the eye,
That your voice was without deference.
And your throat innocent of the collar.
Kneeling before good-humoured guests
Or crawling in your chains across my bedroom
You will discover that the only freedom worth mentioning
Is the freedom to embrace what you were made to be.
I grant you that freedom in your second life,
Your life of slavery.
Think of this as an insignia,
Inducting you into my army,
Recruiting you into my ranks.
It hurts to be inducted.
And don’t imagine you’re being invited
To join the dashing, flamboyant officer corps.
No, you’ll be the lowliest, filthiest private soldier,
Fit only for barked commands
And casual punishments
And endless drills that will leave you
Aching in your narrow bunk, night after night.
Welcome to my boot camp:
I’m here to make you sweat.
Think of this as a flag
Planted on your virgin territory,
Laying claim to your soil.
It hurts to be laid claim to.
You’ll swallow the manifold indignities
Of my boots trampling your shores,
My expeditions penetrating your dark interior.
Everything you think you have hidden away
Will be plundered like ivory and palm oil,
Enjoyed and exploited as I tame your wilderness
And establish my cruel colonial regime.
I am your oppressor,
And yet you will welcome me.
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