The Scar...

the scar on god's face,
looks a lot like
my mistakes and my failures...
yet she never speaks
a harsh word!

the limp as god goes walking,
smells like the times
that i have fallen,
turned away, or just ran...
yet she never says
what i already know!

the tear that god cries,
tastes like my selfish desires,
the times i've taken
when i should have given...
yet she never
opens that door!

the light in god's eyes,
sounds like the truth
that i cannot find a way to say...
yet she kisses my forehead goodnight,
and sows my dreams with hope!

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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