A stranger
Knew my secret longing,
And he showed me
Reflected my shadows and chasms.
Hunger and strife
Leads me to claw
To scratch out
A desperate answer
Trying to heal.
My body is cut open
Flayed apart
Wounded for the sake
Of sacred examination.
If only some surgeon
Could cut out what is missing
And put back what
Is full and right.
Closed back up
I am again still walking wounded
Craving and scratching, hoping,
For someone to put me out of misery.
The stranger is a stranger
He knows not
What he does
In the name of love.
