Triped,
that’s me standing

Set on all three,
like three sides to a story

The one leg, medial,
is key to fruitfulness

and who would not want to enter,
of the host to whom this step is given?

Is there another door,
one from which lushness sprang?

Triped,
that’s me planting life

The third has more than delight;
it is to fashion a brood for hope

I tread so soft with one leg in a bag;
this is while bliss-searching

These streets we trod, amid treachery,
can cause a life of grief

Triped,
my blueprint to walk as a man

Am I my brothers’ keeper?
Oh yes I am, but not while this triped stand