Stigmata by Bob MacKenzie for K. My eyes fill with your tears and I weep in silence as your tears flow crimson down your arms to the floor and my heart bleeds for you. I am afraid and angry but only my calm shows, a mask like the crimson you hide your wounds behind so you see no anger. I fear for you; I rage with anger at all those who made the deeper wounds you must reveal with cuts far deeper than you show. Like your wounds, my anger runs deep and powerful and my tears too flow red into the dark of life and down my face and arms. If my pain does not show, does not bleed out as yours, it is still pain I feel for you and hurts as much when I see you bleeding. What can I do but watch as you relive the fear I cannot understand as you weep red and deep and I fill with your blood? I would seal up the cuts, stop the flow of crimson, and give you back your life, but this is not my role. I can only love you. I can only love you, only stand and hold you until the pain is gone until it comes again and fills me with your pain. |