Silenced

It is not my argument shattering the peace and wholeness of them (I love them),
it is not my fight. I look at
them, their hurt, their fallennes, their minds upset, and I know
I am mute. I have nothing to say, no
solution, no
peace, no
gentleness to
bring them.
I have nothing to say.
I have nothing to pray.
They would not want to hear.
I plead, silently, mutely,
unknowing how to look,
for the least glance may be deadly, make
the situation explode.
I plead with God, I plead for them
with no tears, no groans, nothing but a body on a couch,
wondering why I'm here, why I hear,
when to them, I am nothing but an unwelcome presence,
when I can do nothing but hurt and pray.

God, when will this be enough?
When will these cries be heard?
When will you touch and heal?
When can I hear my own cries,
when I no longer lock the inside,
when I can speak and be heard,
when I can hear, more than is said,
to God be the glory, for all pain is dead!
When silence will no longer bind me,
when finally, they will be free,
and pain and sin will die
in the glory of God-given life.