The wounded girl inside of me

In the dark of the night
they find me, chained by sleepless exhaustion;
lurking in corners, they grow bolder,
they hunt me, they haunt me –
memories.
They overcome my weak
resistance, lash me flat against the bed,
like merciless tyres, roll
over my petrified soul.

Wounded Hand … take tenderly
this nightmare scene away from me.

All I have left
in this hour of need
is my cry to You.
I cannot cry to another,
for churning with hurt
at what has been done to me,
how can I trust a human?
I cannot cry to myself,
for stinging with shame
at what I could not prevent,
all I can do is detest me.

Wounded Hand – dissolve tenderly
that heavy stone of hate in me.

Wounded Hand! Please tear me free,
Draw that poison out of me.

Wounded Friend! Don't abandon me!
Release me from this agony.

Tears come
like the first breath after near-suffocation,
misgivings melt
under the firm rays of promise,
remembered pain evaporates again
in the soft winds of healing.
The memories fall back into
darkness, vanquished for now,
and little by little restoration ripens –
I curl up in Your arms like a child.

Oh Wounded Hand, stroke tenderly
the wounded girl inside of me.

11.9.04