Soul Stockade

My heel is hard now
like a brick
covered in sandpaper
callous
like my soul
I wonder when it happened?
On what day in these 37 years
did a baby's flesh
become tough and
insensitive?
And, what event
gave birth to my cynicism?
Was it something I did
or a natural progression
of events?
Which divorce made me jaded?
Any particular lie my father told me?
Perhaps it was all you parents
or the harsh reality that I am
now one of you?
Like the men before me
I have been dulled by surfeit
but, now an excessive amount of
truth
pain all around me
Privy to it all
I secretly long for my
old spiritual blindness
the good ol' days when
I was guided by the flesh
and even drug use
was "no big deal"
But, I cannot deny my
rebirth
I am only left to wonder
How much character growth
must take place
before all of us
willingly surrender?
In unison we'll all
cry "uncle"
then God can release us
from ourselves

--Shenandoah Lynd