I can see
there had been
far too many things
more bad than good
touching your soul
in your lifetime
the evidence shown
in your eyes
like unwarranted
s†igmata of sins
that you have to
carry around announcing
that you're a failure
while your eyes bear
rigid tears
so rigid
they refuse to fall
and I
let mine flow
for you
in hope that they
can somehow wash away
the scars in your soul
that seem to always
weigh you down
like a sack of stones
that had been thrown
at you in contempt and
you gathered them up
to remind yourself
how bad of a hand
life dealt you
and I wish I could
pick up the stone
one by one
and use it
to crack the wall
of silence
standing between
God and me
where I pray
for your tears to fall...
Addendum
...and if
that wasn't enough
I'd wear s†igmata
on my wrists
to match yours
and maybe, just maybe
God then would listen...
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