Dirt, Grim pressed in

Matted hair, spots bear where it was torn

Wounded, bruised, scraped, beaten, sleep deprived and staved

No spark of life in these eyes laid down and gray

The smell of me causes me ill

My soul distressed caught and trapped in bone

I’d beg but have no breath

I would ask but their ears are deaf

I would walk but where

They look, yet not see

I am a rock, I sit and weather, cold and bear

And YET

You stop, you see

You kneel then sit before me

I wait for your sharp words to cut

But you said hello

I cringe inside myself rapping the fear around me

And YET

You take my hand in yours, gentle and warm

Your hand passes thru the grim and gnarly hair to raise my chin

I do not look in fear of you and all my sin

And YET

Your eyes find my eyes

Your soul reaches my soul

Here I sit in all my filth

AND YET…