What I Wasn’t Supposed to See

My pillow is wet again, and my heart is aching…so I guess I’ll just let you know:

 

I don’t think I was supposed to see this.

 

I don’t think I was supposed to see the angry red gashes crisscrossing his back,

Or the crusty stubs of flesh where his fingernails once used to be.

I don’t think I was supposed to see the remnants of his once soft, brown curls laying on that sooty, ashen floor,

Or his pearly teeth, chipped and left to decay.

I don’t think I was supposed to see the black and blue splotches adorning his legs,

Or the swollen pink mass on his lip.

I don’t think I was supposed to see the red bandanna that was forcing his tired eyelids down,

Or the glint of a wandering ray of light upon the shackles on his wrist.

I don’t think I was supposed to see the way he flinched at the rising of any hand,

Or the tears that splashed on old, lined papers, making the blue ink run.

I don’t think I was supposed to see the fleeting look of mortal terror glaze his blessed eyes,

Or the patterns of grime etched into the lines of his palms as the lay away from his body, overturned.

 

I don’t think I was supposed to see this, but I did.

So for the love of God, stop hiding him behind this bloody sheet! Open it, expose, reveal, produce this masterpiece…or are you scared? Because I also saw something else I wasn’t supposed to see.

I saw a body in a cage, but a soul that was free.

 

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