Hate is the loathsome genesis of death,
For those who feed its belly churning fire;
More than for any target of their ire,
Who heard the wails and felt their gnashing teeth.
They hid their foul, demonic souls beneath
A mask of purpose, seeking to inspire
More hate, but found their hideous desire
Extinguished by a cartoon’s dying breath.
Looking to heaven for their just reward,
They twist a prophet’s words to suit their aim.
Yet when the smoke clears from the killing ground,
When they, in triumph, raise their bloody sword
And look to us, to revel in their fame,
Discover laughter is the only sound.
We built a fire
The paper of our lives
We smashed down doors
Tore up books
No bed unbroken
We took it all
Stacked it to heaven
And with a wink
And it burned
And it lit the sky
And the heat warmed the world
And from the blaze
A new alloy
Precious, strong and beautiful
We lay in ashes
Shrouded in smoke
I could not find you
An ember sparked
And when I wake I know not who I am
Till memory, in piece and part, flows in
To show the things I have, the things I love.
Each flash of joy and spite makes broad
The canvas I inhabit and explore upon,
The jewels within whose gravity I spin:
A sapphire, clear and blue and bold and strong
First gem of priceless joy that broke my heart
Rebuilt me, full of love I’d never known.
A topaz, deep as any earthly sea, and more;
Glows with inner light and brightens me
While changing hue from hue, to this, my star.
A pearl, as gentle as the morning dew
And like this miracle elixir, showing life
In shapes and nuanced shadows I thought grey.
A tourmaline, rainbowed, bright, embracing;
Sparkling here and there, with unexpected fire.
Never dull and never plain, a butterfly of light.
I am enriched. The hand of God has blessed me
And the moment I awake I am new reminded.
Forever more there is no ‘I’, now there is only ‘we’.
My mouth is stopped and my hands are tied,
I cannot present my care.
I have only words. My words must create universes;
Though I watch your eyes soften as you see me,
And feel your hidden need;
The curve of your smile,
And the hairs on your skin stand.
I feel I know what you feel, deep below this surface.
I seize an acknowledged bond;
My words fill the spaces in your spirit,
And I too am full.
My two mistresses:
From deep within, harsh, bitter feelings rise
And throttle new ambition in the womb.
I cannot keep my eyes on any prize
When all I see before me is the tomb
In which my offering was laid to rest.
With not a simple lily to adorn
The coffin of a heart that failed some test
Of truth, and never will arise reborn.
How do I overcome the angry end
Of something that, to me, seemed full of life?
I know that every day I must pretend
That life is fine, I do not feel the knife.
But you know, somewhere deep within your soul,
It wasn’t only me who paid the toll.