Wounded Knees

Here I am on wounded knees
the wailing walls close in on me
I pray for sweet recovery
to wash me clean

These knees which are so etched with scars
from love's mirror, shattered far
reflecting only glass like shards
of good intention

Worn hands held closely to my chest
I'm out of focus, and the rest
of me remembers still, lest
I forget

These hands so ageing and so dry
ever willing me to try
to open them despite the lies
that love may bring

Swollen sight for hope still looks
what chapter next, within this book
I am love's worm upon a hook
content to be caught

These eyes so deep, so brown, so pained
see through the world, beauty remains
within this one whom love ordained
to look for it

Standing on a precipice
tinged with approaching darkness
I walk the tightening ropiness
of insecurity

These feet so battered and so bruised
so unkempt, so over used
may lead me to a place of truth
and inspiration