Here’s an old poem of mine that I ran across recently, that I wrote in 2009:
The Voice Of Love
In dark, lonely places
children get lost,
in wounded places,
their monsters grow;
our tears, clattered
thoughts, words, prayers
between the teeth and claws
reaching air for ground
arms around
moving towards the voice of love…
Through the dark house
sometimes music plays,
joyous strains,
hints of dawn
in the demons of night;
the gift of time,
of words, a touch,
friendship, stories,
remembering hope
in the lightning, the thunder,
in a world where there is violence
that shakes the soul…
Pleasure’s moment broken,
daydream’s grandeur shattered,
the lies we tell ourselves
betray us, as we push to live;
and go wrestle quietly in the field
where birds talked of peace
where snow rejoiced
like love bled;
but the mess is too much
for me to pick up,
walking paths
where bread crumbs get eaten,
and the earth is so full
of life and death,
of height and depth…
Where is there strength,
where is there courage,
to bear the weight, the fight,
of failure and fear,
of a cut up heart,
of a broken world?
Oh there is a healing hand to clasp,
and sweet mercy
speaks in the silence,
and loves punctures the beast
of the human heart,
to come and find the child
who cries for help,
for hope,
to say
don’t give up,
let me hold you…
let me hold you…
I’m here.
Matthew Wiley
Blessings to you, and let me know what you think 
