A brillo pad against the skin,
A hollow emptiness within,
Striking strong a foreign chord,
Polar from the healing Lord.
Ministry this cannot be--
Binding, when I should be free
To loose my heart and all within
And have the healing start again.
Healing softly touches wounds
And vanquishes the discord sounds
That smartly grate the spirit’s jewel
And leave red marks of rat-tailed towel.
Jagged glass and cuts abound.
Blinds and thickened scales around.
The toro signal strong and clear--
Water will not come from here.
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