Mourn with Those

Down on my knees with gravel piercing my skin,

I pray for cool hands and cotton swabs.

I pray for warm cloths and tender balm.

I pray for strong arms to lift this rod from my back.

I will settle for silence, a fellow kneeler

sitting close with willing ear.

Yet instead some offer salt for this scratched skin.

Now I crouch in gravel mixed with salt from kin.