Sunday, October 23, 2016

The scars, they shared.

"She took a broken piece of glass and held it in her hand
Sharp as a razor and a wire from the ground
It was a broken piece of love that she had tried to cover up
And outside her window was the world"

Serrated, the knife,
Sharp, was it not?

The burden, he carried...

The more.

Long together, they had been,
He, and the burden.

To carry it now,
He must.
But how, then, he knew not,

Peeled back the layers, he did,

The top layers only,
On his forearms.

The burden to, release...

Did, it not.

The stress, to release...

The pain, it would,
For a time, mask,
The burden...

But carry it, still he did.
The shame, hurt, and guilt.
Of all the yesterday's.

Still, their is another,
Who carries the scars.

The shame, hurt and pain...
For, all the world...

He created.

He would carry this pain too.
To remove the shame
Guilt, and scars.
To lift the burden, and make it light.
This was his task.

"Follow me all you who are heavy-laden and I will give you rest."

Only one need, carry the scars,
For they both.

"For He, so the luv's, the world. That he give'th his beluved son ..."

"But on the day she realized that she was stronger than the lies
She broke through her window into the world

And she was singing...

Come on, come on set free
All that is a prisoner inside of me
Come on, come on set fire
Burn through the wreckage, leave it all behind"

Bebo Norman, "Outside Her Window was the World"