a rift

Please, let him be soft. 

I know you made him 
     with gunmetal bones
     and wolf’s teeth.
I know you made him to be
     a warrior
     a soldier
     a hero.

But even gunmetal can warp
and even wolf’s teeth can dull
and I do not want to see him break
the way old and worn and overused things do.

I do not want to see him go up in flames
     the way all heroes end up martyrs.

I know that you will tell me 
that the world needs him.
The world needs his heart
     and his faith
     and his courage
     and his strength
     and his bones and his teeth and his blood and his voice and his–
The world needs anything he will give them.

Damn the world,
     and damn you too.
Damn anyone that ever asked anything of him,
     damn anyone that ever took anything from him,
           damn anyone that ever prayed to his name.
You know that he will give them everything
     until there is nothing left of him
         but the imprint of dust
              where his feet once trod.
You know that he will bear the world like Atlas
    until his shoulders collapse
         and his knees buckle
              and he is crushed by all he used to carry. 

Dear God, 
you have already made an Atlas.
You have already made an Achilles and an Icarus and a Hercules. 
You have already made a sacrificial lamb of your Son.
You have already made so many heroes,
and you can make another again. 
You can have your pick of heroes. 

So please, I beg you–
he is all that I have, 
and you have so many heroes
and the world has so many more. 
Let him be soft, 
and let him be mine.