reflections on the wounded healer

take me there
the way that leads us past
solemn crowds
i want to dance
in full view
of all the wasteland
poets who
open their mouths
to deny the truth


no one could take your hope
not with whips or words
nor friends who fled into the world
not with nails or wood or shameful scorn
it was a flame which burst
swallowing death
consuming the criminal
on your left


to grieve a loss
to mourn because
a soul burdened must find some repose
a wound must close
to heal
i am not a man of steel
but flesh and bone
when i bend
i break
once i’m broken it’s over
no more lingering delusions to offer
a piece of me holds life eternal
and the god of all says
that is why i’ve come
the wounded healer


of all the joys
i think you best
the power you posses
to turn a heart like this
to blaze
when not so many days
i was agape
with wounds and woe
your song in dark hours arose
lifting me from the throes
a soul restored
a child wanted
despite my imperfect performance
and the charge against me so enormous


i refuse to carry this cross any longer
i will throw myself upon it
and die a thousand times familiar
to reach that hope beyond all hope
and leave confusion to the scholars


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