Weave

Gentle fingers touch my soul, tugging on the laces that cover my emotions
Unwrapping, the hands work, pulling the flesh aside, smudged with sin
 
Eyes open in fear, never have I gone this far, let someone touch that place
Numb….the only feeling, no fear but not yet peace, just painless trust
 
I stare…have to remember that smile…warm
The pain is overwhelming, though I can’t feel it…that smile…
 
Naked I lay on the dirt of logic, available, defenseless, and vulnerable, such trust
In mere minutes my tumor exposed before the world; I have hate, much hate, such hate
 
Gentle hands, wrenching the rotted fragment of soul, such hurt…ungh…don’t stop
Pain courses the body, the soul is being healed the body says, gentle hands have come
 
Bloody fingers grip the blackened hate; relief grips my lips, my exposure matterless
Exhausted lying in the mud; mud of blood and flesh, mine
 
Understanding hands commence stitching, so unclean I was
With purpose, bloody fingers replace each soul lace
I stare…have to remember, no I need to forget…forget the hate
 
Gentle hands weave so gracefully the soul coat, repaired me they have and well
 
Gentle hands weave so well