It kills me, his brokenness.
It gags me, it beats me and murders me
To see him so hunched over and spent.
He stands straining on the mountaintops of his mind,
An Atlas with the world on his shoulders,
And even though I say,
“Put it down, it’s not your burden to bear,”
He doesn’t believe me.
He would rather take a blood-streaked back
Accept the weakness of trusting.
* * *
I want to look him in the eyes and ask,
Who did this to you?
Who took your soul and crushed it
In between their calloused fingers?
Was it God?
Was it the demons in the dark corners
Of your own mind?
Why, dearest one, did you allow the nails to be
Driven through your hands?
I raise my face to the heavens and ask the questions,
But the answers are never enough to
* * *
I have heard the song his broken heart
Weeps through the shattered windows
Between us, and
It destroys me.
The way the monotonous notes drag on and on
In a damning lullaby that finds me
In my nightmares and
Leaves me screaming.
Lord, save me.
He haunts me and he’s