It was no longer a goal or want, but
A desperation to save lives.
The hangman’s noose clenched his throat, and
My anger emerged stronger from my miserable heart.
Passion flooded my veins, and
I knew I could never be his guardian angel.
His life held up by a rope, while
Most days by a thin thread ready to break.
Medicine, appointments, pointless treatment, and
Lingering hoping to see improvement.
But I sat there doing nothing, unable
To do anything.
How weak am I?
Though I am healthy, guilt
Was the most terrible sickness I’d endured.
His mind at ease and mine with worry
God could release him,
God could cure him,
God could harbor his pure, innocent
Soul and set him free… but no
Suffering grew taller than the tallest tree
He felt the whip slash his back,
Penetrating his bones, his muscles, his heart
His soul.
Until the day comes the noose slowly contracts,
Leaving a permanent mark
Only to be seen by those who suffered by his side.