Crossroads

When the roads are crossed A decision is demanded: To swim or to sink To race or to ride To soar or to sulk To bow or to burn. When for me the roads were crossed, A decision was demanded I decided a bow, Not of ostrich in the sand Or of men without liver or lever Or those with the heart of chicken Not also of men whose hearts Are without the fiber of morality. It was a bow to conscience A bow to honour on a platter of dignity. To my God I have sworn, Sworn? Yes, not to price my belly above my conscience. As many do in the land Even learned men, The men in wig, Called to dignity.