BARBS IN YOUR EYES

There's been a whole

feast of people,

barbs,

flint,

sticks,

poking and jabbing,

and making me feel

more human

than the heart

that tirelessly

works my blood.

I never sought

to cast them out

until 

You broke my spirit,

and in return,

sacrificial lambs,

all the people 

who were something,

sometimes,

long ago,

when Your name

was just another

card upon which

I built

my house.