by Caroline Martin
Rolling the truth, as gauze onto the core of man
Lapping the lies, shaped like open cuts and endless bruises
The reality of sorrow framing our outsides
Purple black and blue
God wraps us him with pure lightly twinned truth
Going over every curve, shaping the weak man's hip bones
Covering what was said to him, what is now done and gone
Although the lies are under the surface of truth
They will be healed by the protection of purity
Not only will the wounds be wrapped
Slowly they will start to heal
Maybe he won't see it at first, but slowly he will smile again
And maybe place is heart back into the hands of someone worthy
Maybe even forgive the world for all these scars
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