What sins harrow up the souls
of my children?
What grievous deeds
bar with flaming sword
the communion of God and child?
Dammed are the pure waters
that flow.
Damned are their hearts.
Arid is the soil
that divides.
No speaking
No sharing
No drawing from the well
of wisdom
I would share.
Silently I sit
and pray,
beseeching in their behalf
for the balm of Gilead
to sooth,
to heal,
that sweet water of forgiveness
might once again
cause thirst parched soil
to bloom as Eden.
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