Someone To Save

How do you find the right hand to grab
In a field of helpless strangers?

Whose is most important?
Whose will be needed most direly?

I see them coming at me
Like the kids on a merry-go-round
Each of their horses bucking them out of place
As they grab onto the pole
Tears bleeding from their faces
And band-aids unable to cover them

Each color should be a shade of brown
But they've dulled to gray
And I cannot see the color of their eyes

I'm not a saviour
But I would be for them

All the worn out shoes
The thin and ragged coats
The bruised lungs
And the scratched ribs

Ribs that have been worn threadbare to protect
The heart

My own heart cries to see beasts
Leaping at them
As if attacking their cages in attempts
To get their prey

It rarely ends
It continues to start

Little do I know I'm spinning in my own circle
Dizzied by the music
Waltzing me onto my head
Bleeding life out of my feet
And drowning my brain

I don't know if the hands grab for me
To lift me up
Or to be lifted
I assume they want to be lifted

What if I'm the one who's really on the bottom?

...

Then the hands must be the mountain path

They are reaching out to carry me up
And as I pass
Their lifting causes me to lift them

I may even faint under the weight of those
Who follow behind me

But when I do
I pray that one will have gained the strength
To surpass me
And carry me to the top
And stay to keep me in their arms
Until I awake