Boaz

Blood drips down once again,
From the places I dare to think,
And old scars reborn break into
cold graves slept in before.
This fiery pepper red stings
the soul and burns the skin,
dripping through matted hair,
the skin drips, the thoughts
drip down into abyss.

But Boaz smiled. And Moses rose
to rise his hands wherever he lay.
And Boaz smiled, the rightous
not so rightous as the day I was born
but unable to hide eternal joy
For the price that was paid.
I am sure that as the dark was
painted over the land He
whispered my name.
And it stung to say it.