Do all that I can by Mark

I am disabled with spirit
Yet born daily with hope
A day's sunrise burns prosper
So to then my mind continues and copes.

Soul searching and heart wrenching
The caring shovel spoons its next depth
The metal edge sparking opposing rock
Surrounding dirt falls as tears are wept.

But it's into her own pit
She so falls; yet without spade
Entrenched and pushed
To fall without aid.

A pit worn deep by her childhood path
Under minded; over controlled; who to trust
Beaten by others' words into submission
She must ?

She must self hate, self "mutilate"
And so it traps her childhood fragility
Piercing words drawing blood and
Now adult confusion with countering maturity. 

But here remains, shovel in either hand
Scratching to lever that insistent focsle
A loving man, brow beaten, shallow breath
Impatient scars; burning muscle.

Dig faster and below
Dig to the right; let it be so
Help provide a platform on which to stand
To raise herself; to be grand.

?. do all that I can.

To be set free and forgotten
From the Darkness so below
With a self OK to take her Lover's hand
Herself now a friend to the same
Together, greener pastures; to the promised land.