by M. M. Kolf
The Cell
When you were born
The Spirit sighed,
It loved you even then
It watched you as
A little child
Playing with your toys
And wasn’t blind
To your surprise
When you received those blows.
And then the Spirit
Wailed like you
When you found they didn’t care.
And through the years
What cost him most
Was when your heart turned black as theirs.
With a holy fist
It beat the ground
When all belief in you lay dead.
And now the Spirit
Sits beside you,
Knowing the fractures
Of your teeth and bones
The stress of living in a violent world.
And this spirit waits for your consent
That He take you by the hand,
And lead you to a tranquil place