Trouble in this world, a poem

I suppose faith would indeed be seen as weak,

those who pity us 

who rely on the unseen. For true strength

rises up on the wings of broken 

hearts and flesh, invisible

not because of what we have done but

because of who HE is.

the true

pity is for the ones who do not know

who cannot see the goodness 

in the land of the living,

who cannot help

but mock and reopen the stripes of the 

ONE 

who died for even them. No 

justice comes 

from arguing about the shade of red to a blind man.

And so we traipse 

on, the bruised and weary land

I love thirsting for the one drink

they refuse to taste.

*****

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