For a friend

Oh, wounded child!

Will you bring roses to yourself?

Will you pick your own compassion,

Sunflowers of a great soul,

And nurture them

With your heart light?

Like a scabbed wound,

The emptiness festers

Where you have poured your life

Onto everyone but you.

Empty,

You lose the will to live.

Eat!

Eat the manna of your own soul,

Small voice that says

I am worthy

Of my own life.