You've treasured my soul, or so you have said.
On damaged ground you've known that I tread.
I've engulfed you so real in my trust-weary hold,
when finally secured, you've cracked this safe mold.
You've held my hand, my strength you have praised,
knowing I've conquered the demons once raised.
Yet, the faith in my heart you claim to hold true
crumbles, dismayed at words not so new.
All the time knowing the self I've become
you've kept up the farce that our dreams are one.
Yet, then, through the fire, you've stolen some flame,igniting it now in hate-words of blame.
Then when faith dies, as always it must,
the rest of the days I spend burying trust.
Only in moments I will remember time's lies
and find myself mourning your loving disguise.
Grant that I may not judge my niegbor until I have walked a mile in his moccasians
Native American prayer
[This message has been edited by christies heart (edited 03-23-2000).]