Quiet thunder shifted from within the gloom
His hands, like blackened skies, slowly eased open,
Salt water is a bitter sweet rain,
. but tears erode sighs,
. and if he’s honest, he’ll tell you, that they sometimes still do.
This, the scarred out pouring,
. and its solemn reminder
. of a mended heart once utterly ripped in two.
He was the insignificant
A failed participant
Whose cord was tied round his neck in the womb
Born the cold colour match for the umbilical blue
Deemed an untalented fool
Beaten with words,
. left to find value in friendless schools
The one aimless wonder
The abandoned son of a broken father
The amusement of pointless punters
Just another pawn in the clanging mix of a jester’s set of tools.
Words fail wherever pain grips the heart
Though there’s little danger of flammable sparks.
For when Christ’s forgiveness crashes into the past,
the soldier is backed by his Captain;
who is Himself scarred;
is He Himself proven more than fit for the task.
Photo credit: Unsplash.com Allef Vinicius