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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required The day they kidnapped you Was the day I found myself lost. I found myself mostly numb In a frosted layer of my own tears -- My eyes now dried out from Years of overuse. I've never missed something this badly, Even after losing my own dad. Sadly this takes the cake. I almost feel inhuman for feeling this way. But isn't that what I am now since you fled? The monster under my childhood's bed? One of a total of eight - One for every forsaken flame That kept the fire of my childlike zeal burning - And eight years of work still can't raise the flame from its slumber. Forgive me In the chill of loneliness' cavern I've forgotten the fondness of a smiling heart, Or the levity of laughter's luxury. I have lost the grail of passion, And a passion for people. People -- Love People laugh People listen People link arm to arm And lean closer Eye to eye Bonded by the light transmitted between them. I am not people. I am not persons. I am but deserted versions of burdens long forsaken, behind the curtains of sermons sung and versus not forgotten, yet buried under the misery of betrayal's semblance Remember Meekness Patience Temperance Gentleness - These are healing balms From the palms of Gilead In symbolic remembrance Of the one whose palms hold the bonds of light Which people transmit - Who submitted His will And became Grace itself. These are sermons sung And versus not forgotten, And my shaking soul Left lifting its melodies In search of the harmony that will Someday heal its scars. I am the lamb written into each palm. I am the woman who draws from His healing balm. I am the human whose imperfections only grace can heal into sacred psalms of eternal calm. I am the lamb of I am - The only way the only truth the only life the only one.
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