When the rains came
They washed away the filth
That had collected on my face
Ran down my cheeks onto my shirt
Soaked through where my chest lay bare
Into a heart that doesn’t know how to care

There is a place
Inside my heart of stone
Where the water starts to flow
Until it makes its way to my eyes
It’s not me because grown men don’t
Or maybe it’s the missing child stuck alone

Once I was young
I dreamed of being more
Where angels really cared for kids
And no one harmed the least of these
Broken minds could heal like broken bones
And winding roads were only for coming home

I’ve lived longer
But not long enough
To wash away the memories
Of the broken mind or broken bones
The sadness is multiply because I’m not alone
Inside my memories or looking out into emptiness

© 2017 Tim D. Coulter Sr.