The tears gently roll down
in the secret places of my heart.
I bow in bewilderment
burdened by confusion,
as if I were shouldering a ton of bricks.
I lift my eyes in desperation.
From heaven on high –
from right beside me –
you see my tender heart tears
And you hear my whispered heart cry.
“Father, who am I?!
What makes this heart of mine
care so much for other people
and about what others think of me?
Spirit, can you possibly take
this over-sensitive
passion
and transform it into
something –
anything –
useful?”
and one salty tear
escapes from the recesses,
sliding gently down my cheek.
My fingers grope
my guitar
to find the chords
that mean
what I really want to say,
what I really want to say.
No comments:
Post a Comment