Monday, March 24, 2008

The Boy Who Held His Hand

They gouged them out;
At first I could not bear to look.
Empty and raw and cruel;
I would not look, the shock of emptiness knowing that he would not see;
I watched the shaven head bowed low,
Rocking with the rhythm of the grid stone,
Round; round; round,
I watched the needless shackles;
Heavy and hard;
Biting the flesh that needs no binding
Now! it does not matter
That his eyes are gone;
I am his eyes,
He sees through me;
He has to see through me
There is no other way;
And i have wept the tears he cannot weep;
For all those careless years;
And i've learned to love this broken man
While he has learnt at last
To fear his God!
So i am not afraid to die
Happy to be his eyes
This one last time
Taking his hand
Leading with practiced care
Step by guided step
Leading to a place where he can pray
Oh! Lord Oh! soverign Lord,
And as the pillars fall
I cried...AMEN