The Prisoner

The prisoner is the prison guard

He locks himself in with the keys in his hand

The cell becomes home for this prison man

Whose head becomes burdened

By the heart of the guard

Oh how he yearns to break free,

Free from the lies,

The lies of the guard who locks the door each night

The prison man gets a taste of the light

Shining oh so bright,

Just outside of his cell

Each day he breaths in the freshness of air

And the freedom dwelling there

Penetrating his soul

He has hope for another day

But just as he feels the breeze in his nose

Just as the sun peaks over the ridge

His joy is snatched as he fits in the cell,

Into the dark cell once more

The cycle continues

Each day and each night

The hope of the day fades to the fear of the night.

Let the Tender Hands

Darkness.

Hurt.

Pain.

Some will be forgotten

Some will be buried,

Buried down in the cavern of the soul

They seem lost somewhere down there

As if they will never see the light of day

Where they will fester

And pester the soul

And eat a hole

Right to the core

Now laid bare

For a soul to come and care

 

So along comes a lion,

A wolf in sheep’s clothing

Preaching hope and freedom

From the pain piled deep down inside

He plants a thought

Mistaking gashes for mending

And fancying a blade

As the aid,

The tool of his healing

 

I bought this thought

For freedom is what I sought

To carry me away

From the burden I carry

I grabbed the blade

By now the damage has been done

The marks do not fade

It’s hard to look away

 

Back comes the lion

Now taunting his prey

Who bought his hope

And his lies

Now they just fade to

Fear.

Guilt.

Shame.

 

A voice calls out

“Where are you going?”

“I’m hiding

For I am afraid of what you may say

Just look at my scars

Oh, how I stained your masterpiece.”

 

“Who told you that?

Child of mine, I see no stain

I still see my masterpiece

Whom I breathed into life.”

 

“But I lost

The crafty one has won,

Just look what I have done!”

 

“Don’t you see

That from his mouth

Comes the words of judgment

Whose chains were broken long ago

He did not win because you are in need of grace

I have won,

For by grace I made the way.”

 

“Won’t others see my scars?”

 

“They may, but I don’t.”

 

“Won’t they see me differently?”

 

“They may, but I don’t.”

 

“Have you heard my mouth and what it has said?

Have you seen my eyes and what they have seen?

Have you seen my hands and what they have done?

If you did you wouldn’t want this soul!”

 

“I love you,

Don’t ever forget this

I love you,

Scars and all.”

 

“You may, but I can’t.”

 

We all find ourselves with scars of our own

Some large

Some small

Some out in the open

And still some hidden far from the light

 

We run, run, and run some more

To go far away from the pain we bear

But farther down this hole we go

There, guilt and shame will swallow us whole

 

Turn and open up those wounds

To let the light of grace come in

As the arms of hope wrap around

Let the tender hands cleanse you now

And hold you now,

And forevermore.

The 10 Hour Gap of Death