“Sores Within A Sore“
No pain is as squeezing as their sores:
That spread all over their cores.
Yet they multiply more and more,
As if their sores are free of pain and spore.
When we entered their camps,
Their hairs stood straight like poles:
For seeing us as lamps to their dark paths.
Their mouths salivate for a messiah.
Sorrows fill their hearts like loads,
And the burdens in their hearts as heavy as gravel.
They live as if no sorrow to fight;
And their faces glow with delight.
On their guide - may the sun be
As healing balm to their frail bodies;
This is my heart entreaties,
As I listened with care to their worries.
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