More Hemmed In

More Hemmed In

(“As the mountains are around Jerusalem, so the Lord surrounds His people, from now and forever.” Psalm 125:2)

I’m sick with pain.
I no longer hurt, no mere aches,
but am diseased and broken,
a brain that has flown off the tracks.

Where are the ones who once walked with me,
Am I a leper unclean?
Where are the ones who broke bread with me,

Am I repulsive; or worse,
unseen?

You throw your words like shards of glass,
broken beer bottles ready for a street fight.
You disguise yourself until the last moment
and retreat into the words you learned in church
(but you forgot the Sunday School songs (Jesus
loves the little children of the world.)

I’m shattered with pain,
scratching at a heart that will not heal.
Numb and frozen in place my head nods sleepily
filled with shots of lead.
The avenues are blocked, I cannot see ahead,
more friends decide I am not worth their time.

And, what if I disagree with the new few who
smile at me,
occasionally? What if they find I am not nearly
one of their kind
as they supposed
me to be?

So, God you say you surround me, but I feel more
hemmed in than
protected.
You’ve put the squeeze on me, I’m the last dollops
of toothpaste in the tube.

So, God you say you surround me, my brain is broken,
so perhaps the arrows the fly through wireless eyes,
are angels come to rescue me.

Sounds are uncertain and sight is deceiving,
I cannot shake the feeling that I’ve been down this road before.

So, God you say you surround me.