At the Hem

So ... I kinda feel sometimes like John Coffey from The Green Mile.
Not only do I feel for those people around me.
Sometimes, I feel like I actually ingest their pain.
In the past few months,
I've seen the loss of a parent, the struggle with the loss of a sibling,
the loss of not one, but two, babies, the loss of an only adult son,
the pain of betrayal, indifference, and feeling insignificant.
And so ... these words came out.
It is written in the first person ~
but meant for absolutely every single one of us.


At the Hem
by Lyn Marinello

I am an open book
    penned in invisible ink
Incredibly pensive
    with thoughts unworthy to think
I've battled foes
    unseen by the masses
Sprinting through life
    as I trudge in molasses
I see little I like
    in my mirrored reflection
Rise from the ashes
    to greet new dejection
I dance to life's cha-cha
    on sore, calloused feet
Feast on hope never ending
    that tastes so bittersweet
There's a pain in betrayal
    the soul can't correct
An ache indescribable
    from complete disrespect
As a tired head raises
    adrift in a hurt filled haze
I can almost see clearly
    the error of my ways
I have searched for the answers
    in the person adjacent
Thought "little" wrongs don't count
    I became completely complacent
I bartered and bargained,
    plead for forgiveness, redemption
Thought that maybe some status
    provides a safety, exemption
I've learned salvation exists
    as I see when I probe
Not in material, money or man
    but at the hem of His robe