I donít want to talk about it;
it feels intrusive to answer questions.
I donít want your commiserating pity;
it feels too condescending.
I donít want reassuring hugs:
they feel constrictive and confining.
I donít want you to protect me:
it makes me feel weak and pathetic.
I donít want conciliatory agreement;
it feels like you are humouring me.
I donít want your words of sympathy;
they sound fake and belittling.
I donít want you to be understanding;
there is no way you could ever know.
But there was once a little boy
who needed all those things above.
He didnít ever get them, though
and now he always feels that hunger:
to be kept safe, to be fixed, to be held,
for someone to know and understand
and intervene and make it all right.
I know that he still needs it all
but his needs and my wants
are working at cross purposes.
I think Iíd like a little rage;
maybe he would too.
07 Ė 16 Ė 13
How long, LORD, must I call for help, but you do not listen?
Or cry out to you, ‚ÄúViolence!‚ÄĚ but you do not save?
Why do you make me look at injustice?
Why do you tolerate wrongdoing?...
Therefore the law is paralyzed, and justice never prevails....