Throw the Stones
Eyes so haunted by contempt,
So still in bleak despair,
Stab my soul with fiercesome judgment,
And leave me bleeding there…
Bleeding among the dirty whispers
Among the concrete laughs
In the darkened alley of this life—
I suffer among the trash
Rotting with all the cruelty,
With the stench of hot dismay--
Waiting on the grounds of sorrow
For my soul to decay.
They cast their judgment on my life,
And look down on this, my soul.
They beat me while I’m down and weak
With little life to hold.
They punch me with their words of doubt.
They kick me with such fear.
They have no mercy when I cry out.
They pause to mock my tears.
They’re not soldiers in my troubled war!
They know nothing about my life!
They’ve never had to command my troops!
They’ve never fought my fight!
They think that they
Have read my story—
Have acted on my stage,
But they don’t know the role I play
They’ve never read a page
Of this they call my fragile life,
My attempt at being free--
And so they see my soul as glass
And throw their stones at me!
Well…
Throw the stones.
You do not know the soul I have.
Its hungry will won’t die,
Until it does what it’s to do,
Though you may see me cry—
You’ll never know about my soul
And its will to just be free,
Your judgment cannot
Stop me here,
So throw your stones at me.
Throw your stones of whispered lies,
Of contempt,
And bleak despair!
Throw your stones of heartache’s pain,
Mock my pleas and prayers!
Throw your stones of doubt’s dismay…
Your taunting, judgmental laughs!
Leave me there to bleed in darkness
With all your sorrow’s trash!
My wounds will heal with tender care,
And faith
Will bandage
My soul
And give to me the strength I need
To have
This life
To hold.
For life knows not the silent soul
That says that it is done.
It breathes within the eager soul
That strives to carry on.
~T.S. Wilkins~
