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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required The cut bashed from a hike in the woods , and the roll down the Hill and the wound if not washed and dressed with the proper ointment will fester and have a malodorous odor. The wounded hiker should as duty calls rush home, head to the closet , seize the first aide kit, and wash the laceration conventionally as a nurse would. And apply ointments and gauze to avoid problems. But left untreated one part of our anatomy is unseen and forever hidden of the prying eyes of X-rays, ultrasounds and surgeons on operating tables or exam rooms. Its even hidden from the one whose body it was given to before all ages. And we know this because the Holy Spirit has given us our soul to enrich and enliven us. I can talk to my soul by telling him I love him and listen for responses and welcoming guidance. What can I do to my soul after years of wounding. Addiction, sexual exploitation, lack of nourishment of prayer to God, neglectful adoration of God and degradation of my soul left alone imprisoned through indignity after indignity until the wound festers and my very being lingers on the verge. No ointment or gauze or bandage may be of service to the substance of my being. Alone the body moves as the soul watches a silent tear ,gradually, and slowly gushes out of the heart of mine own eye as he lingers crying. Those lasting words pour through my lobes as with each gasp, reaching further inside of me for something hidden, I see a shadowed face tear struck and wanting, reaches and pulls me forward.
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