Over the shirt and tie, I've been wearing an everyday suit of armor
to protect me from the anger, the manipulation, the habits
that gave me the power to act without consequence.
It is a heavy, but blessed suit of armor,
kissed by an angel of redemption, forged
by the devils of regret. And I do not begrudge
wearing it. For now. But I hope for the day,
that my skin oxidizes and takes on the blessing,
but not the weight of this armor, its soft, fleshy
vulnerability encased in the patina
of a goodly man, able to defend himself
against the encroaching host.
AND WHEN I AM GREEN WITH PATINA,
my blood will no longer boil or foment beneath my crust,
but shall shine like light and pour forth like poultice.