>From Psalm 55

>Words which feel so good to the skin
At first touch
like aromatic oil
Like oil for massage
Working on the skin, soothing the muscles
A friend speaks them, all is well
But
What seemed like soothing now burns
I think of Heracles ripping his tunic
Drenched in poisoned blood
Not oil, but acid
Burning the skin, hurting
It would be easier if a stranger
Would curse me on the freeway
Or pick a fight at the supermarket
I can turn the other cheek, I can walk away
But
You I let you touch me
Your hands work on me
You fingers on my skin
We talked all the night through about God
We woke up excited because it was Sunday
But
God sees, God knows
I have nothing, I did nothing
I am the victim here, and God protects me
I will still be with God
While you taste of your own medicine
Forever

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About spaceloom

An urban monk, and an experienced spiritual director with a Masters in Psychology. Married with two children. Want to know me better? Read my thoughts.
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