Tracing pain,

Tracing pain…

Hurtful skin tight
tired and taught
his pain dampened
no I’d say it’s not,
each line contoured
like a craggy heath
never to see
what lies beneath.

Draw the pencil
make it speed
don’t drag those
lines deep in deed,
spare the rod I hear
from his past, he
never slept first
night or last.

Still he strides out
his eyes beady
does what he can
for those more needy,
perhaps we’ll trace
his pain from there
or at least understand
why the old grey hair.

My pencil may
weaken fail to cure
I’m to blame
for his demure,
tell him no my
hand is true
he and I’ll finish,
what both must do....