ROOM OF AN ANCIENT WOUND

While I am thinking
Of the moon

Waxing lyrical

In its striving
To emerge

Through cloud
Again

The boy inside a man
Desperately needs

To break
Out of the dark

Room of an ancient
Wound

He questions
The recall of his
Mind

Emotional
Memory

Is
Without doubt

Convulsing
In its honesty

Bursting

Into tears
When the movie tells
A story like his own

Assaulting

Every involuntary
Fibre of him
Compulsing

I pray the prayer
He cannot say

Express a hope
He cannot feel

Beg God

Put forth
Your arm in strength
On his behalf

How long
The wounded
Wait

The mounting years
Too many

I am helpless
Beneath the sundered
Sky

Jet blackness
Set against
A kind radiance

Silver lining
Of the night

Behold she comes
Bright brilliance

Low, lopsided, lovely
The moon as mother
Appears

Beacon of a goodness
That might prevail
And not fail again