A Martyr’s Place

I’ve lost count of
the times I got
up on my feet
after falls from grace.

I am kissed and then
stripped again, tied
to crossed bars and then
whipped apace.

I’ll roll stones in the
morning, by evening
those stones will be
back in place.

I confess I am tired
of the words ‘you are hired’
in this martyr’s space.