James Tipp

Rookie - 408 Points (20-06-1945 / East London)

The Great Leveller - Poem by James Tipp

Like a knife it stabs,
You shudder, stumble, pant.
You did what you always did,
But today it was different,
Pain the great leveller,
Rich or poor, literate, illiterate
Genius or fool, pain levels all.
There is no comfort in pain.
Silk sheets, heated room,
Pavement hard, freezing air
Make no sense of pain.
It reaches the very depths.
In all this I seek a friend
Someone who says “I know
I have been where you are
And beyond”
Arms outstretched, pain
Oh so much pain.
He knows, He cares
I’ll share with Him.
He reaches out, I see the marks
I know He’s here.

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Poem Submitted: Monday, December 14, 2009

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