I'd rather write poetry than cure souls <br />Stringing pearls to tie my thougts in ordered rows <br />Than to set their fears, their dreams <br />As glass gems in a plate breast plate <br />Hanging before the two tablets of their hearts. <br /> <br />Now God's word comes too easy to be true. <br />I know too many incantations for opening hearts <br />And bleeding souls <br />And divining <br />The hidden patterns made <br />By the bitter honey of psychic blood <br />On food trays, bed pans and the floor - <br />Children, jobs, bosses, <br />Wives, war, <br />And eagles that no longer fly. <br /> <br />But I'm no leech. <br />So with a counter charm, <br />A prayerful phrase, <br />I plug the wound. <br />They think they're cured, <br />But I'm still hungry.<br /><br />Lewis Eron<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/praying-for-the-sick/
