I saw him sitting on the floor. I saw the shame through his pores. I saw the pain in his bones.
I saw him sitting on the floor. I asked him if something was wrong? I think life had muted him, for he did not speak, he did not weep, he did not see, he bore his shame inside.
I saw him sitting on the floor, his back was made of stone, I think he was comatose. He reeked of weariness and brokenness, Yet, I don’t think he was done, There was a bit of flare in him. I saw the strength there was in him, I saw the fear shining through his skin, I saw him trying to get up, but, he sat down once more.
I asked him what was wrong? if I could help at all? I think life had muted him, for he no longer spoke he no longer cried he no longer saw he bore his shame inside.
I saw him sitting on the floor. I hope one day he gets up from the inside out!