![[img-flowers-boots.png|300]] **The Altar of Paperwork and the Sacred Song** The trauma wound When a parent says, "I'm busy" And sends you away Does not care for the gift You are bringing their way. There was magic in receiving it An openness and child-like joy Lord, they buried my song under paperwork. What do we do in a world that snuffs us And wants us as hard as a rock? We go to the healer We give it to him He is always waiting He is eager to hear. Do not harden my heart, Love is the gift Yet painful, in the wrong hands Crushed By the urgency of bureaucracy. Did you stamp your paper? Did you check the right box? Mail in the check? Tasks at zero inbox? Do not worry, write again, the story of the castle and the little way and of the little flower Protected by the diamond gate. We hide in the dignity Of the children of God We can be vulnerable When God is our dad.