I want to ask you
about what you need to tell,
that hurt you deep,
and made you weep,
I need to see you well.....
The pain, I see in many ways,
with wonder at your strength,
and depth of courage grow.
But is it my place, really now,
to venture talk at any length?
For I am just a comma
in the story of your life,
but still I look into my chest
for my biggest strip of bandage best,
and stumbling, I awkwardly manage,
to bring it toward your strife.
Yet here I stand holding nothing,
Dwarfed by the scars that you know.
A mere comma applying frail pauses,
to rips in a dam holding sadness,
when he ought to be helping the flow.
================================
Prairie Dan 11/04/00
copyright 2000, Daniel A. Johnson,
All rights reserved