The helping hands

My sins are washed away for a moment. I am a human. A victim of oppression. "You are hanging with the wrong crowd." The crowd is all ready picking the stones ready to tear piece by piece. "Stick with the person you like and it will rub on you." Wait the second, it doesn't mean to break her neck, because you want what she has. I am making the same mistake as He did almost 2,000 years ago. Onions, or Icarus, or something between? I am dreaming. He pushed me gently: it's time to go. I left my cocoon bewildered entering new path. I am not dreaming. I walked this path before, long time ago. There will be helping hands to take me, to lead me, to encourage me. Copyright (c) 7/5/09 Marie Neumann, Pottsville