I thought of saying,
Look, I will take you
through my self,
show you where the
laceration is,
where I have been
bruised. Come,
come and marvel, be
taken
with my pain.
But I have changed, and
the change perhaps is
wisdom.
All hearts are wounded,
only
not everyone complains.
Instead of asking you
to
be smitten by the
scars,
I would rather go with
you
to look at sunlight on
the swell,
or birds flying in the
city,
seeming each to be
turned
and pointed by
the patient touch of
God.
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