I Was There To Help

You tripped and fell, and I caught you,
and you cut me just a little.
It wasn’t intentional, not your fault,
and I helped you to get up.

Again, I was there to help
When you lost your balance.
I reached out to lend my strength
and steady your lurching stance.

You begged forgiveness through your tears,
and I told you it’s already done,
but you stumbled and fell once again,
and cut me to the bone.

When next you staggered, I lifted you,
and my old cuts started to bleed.
Your plea for mercy touched my heart
and without hesitation I agreed.

You wobbled and swayed and I held you up
and tended to your wounds.
Again and again I forgave you
and dismissed the pain from my own.

Then you walked to the edge of the cliff,
looked me in the eye and jumped.
I threw you a rope and blistered my hands
as I tried to pull you up.

But you yanked on the rope, nearly pulling me down,
as you swung to and fro,
and my hands became hard and calloused
and scars began to grow.

Finally instinct for self preservation
caused me to release the rope,
and I winced as I smelled the stench of death
as I saw you lose all hope.

I turned away and grieved my loss,
and heard the sound of your impact.
Then you scrambled to the bottom of the wall
and begged me to come back.

But the scars and calluses had covered me,
and I couldn’t hear your plea.
Nothing I did would save you
if you didn’t want it to be.

So I spread my arms to the sky
and lifted my face to the sun,
and the scars and pain fell away.
Pure healing had begun.

Now a new one stands beside you
arms outstretched to help,
and I thank God every day,
that I’m sleeping by myself.