The knife is buried deep
plunged right in my chest
and I fear to pull it out
lest I die again.

falling falling all the way
the rocks and ice and snow
falling falling every day
this is how we go.

I did not stop to fight
And so I lost myself
and prying eyes have taken much
and here I am again.

But if I cry to God above
will He even care?
and all the world just laughs on by
and here I am again.

Chains have many forms to take
and take they will your soul and joy
as you toil do you hear?
Do you feel their heavy weight?

Save me master; come and see.
I am lost by my own hand
and though another locked me fast
I have thrown the key from land.

Will you leave me to myself
To die and bring you shame?
Will the rocks cry out to you
and praise your holy name?

Though I die I would live
crucify the old man now
make of me what you will
I trust you see I know not how.


A Letter to my Father, the Night Before Christmas

I took the pall from off your casket
I’ve worn it all these years
It hides me from the many monsters
And soaks up all my tears.

But I have not gone on to make
Anyone quite so proud
I’ve hid and stood and born my pain
with nothing said out loud.

I wish that I could tell you something
Or show you something that I’d done
But I am choked beneath this pall
That once so hid me from this sun.

And all the years I might have loved
Or played to make the angels weep
I stalled beneath this pall of yours
And could not pray my soul to keep.

I do not know the way back home
Or maybe I have never been
But every search has left me hollow
Every fall and every sin.

I had so many questions hid
But now they seem to all be gone
And you won’t answer anyhow
and I will have to soldier on.

I feel a great wide heavy ache
And do not have a heart or tongue
And with the pall that I have worn
I know that I might soon be hung.