Broken Vessels

Outward, the clay spoke austerity,

yet such pain, in the vessel, was sealed.

The sun far above spoke prosperity,

but what was untouched, never healed.

And the roses, they blush the most florid of hues,

though some that the tales never mention,

reach up only to meet a merciless ruse,

and only the barbs vie their attention.

The tears that fall unseen, fall no less real,

and leave on the soul, their counterfeit heat.

And pains that fail flight, ‘neath so hardened a seal,

will kill, just as subtly, the heart’s lonely beat.

The tears cause a rot, a decaying inside.

A new wish appears, grief no longer appealing,

a need to breach this so lonely, and self-made divide;

the inner vessel exposed to the Son’s gentle healing.

Tues. 4-11-06