I am naked and bleeding
And no one seems to know or care
Or if they do, they are powerless to stop it.
Like the beaten man on the road to Jericho, I lie by the side of the road
Robbers stripped me here and left me all but dead.
Too proud to cry, or too wounded to, I lie here hoping
For some good Samaritan to pass this way.
Do I deserve it? Should I have oil and wine poured on my wounds and
be borne on the back of a donkey to a place of rest by some kind soul?
Not knowing the answer to this or not feeling there is such a one, I lie, naked, silent, wounded.
Until someone passes by.