They Tell Me

I debated about whether I ought to post this or not, but I chose to because I feel it fits with several others I’ve written, and as I restructure my blog that may make more sense. That being said, over the summer I read several articles about domestic abuse and sexual harassment, and I was inspired to write this.

 

They tell me

it’s normal

when little boys

rip the wings off

of butterflies.

They tell me

it’s normal.

 

They tell me

I should have known

when his hands wandered,

his eyes wandered too.

They tell me

I should have known.

 

They don’t know

he ripped my wings

over quiet years

of concealed pain.

They don’t know,

They don’t care.

 

They told me

we had love-

three long years

together.

They told me

we had love.

 

So I stayed

for that love.

But love isn’t

breaking her down.

But I stayed

for my love.

 

Three years past,

I am healed,

mostly.

I will thrive.

Three years past

I am healed.

~August 19, 2016~

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Love

Love.

Expressed so many ways

Shared by fam’ly, friends, lovers.

The same throughout time.

Love.

Found in discussion,

Seen in writings and photos.

A constant in time.

Love.

A comradary,

A desire to be closer,

To share one’s whole self.

Love.

To know someone’s worst,

And act like it matters not.

Peace, patience, grace, joy.

Love.

It builds up friendships,

Lays foundations for marriage,

Strengthens families.

Love.

Necessary, lacking.

Blinded by pain, lust, revenge.

Sorely sought after.

Love.

What does anyone want,

But to be loved and cherished,

Safe among loved ones?

Love.

Such a simple word,

Such a difficult lifestyle,

A truly hard choice.

Love.

~April 3, 2016~

A Poem for my Husband

Your kisses always taste sweet to me.

Your skin feels like my favorite dress-

smooth and warm where it touches my skin.

Us fighting is exhilarating-

thunder and lightning and pounding rain.

Making up with you after the fight

is like a fresh, new dewy morning.

I adore waking up beside you,

listening to your gentle breathing.

My husband, my love, my life, my world,

what we have is something valuable,

it can’t be bought, or sold, or traded,

to others its completely worthless.

You can’t put a price on the mornings

I watch you get dressed from our warm bed.

My dear husband, know that I love you,

now and forever, with my whole heart.

I am yours, husband, and you are mine.

~May 2, 2016~13239198_10209899861118356_7725521178370482228_n

The Fall of Rome

I’m living through

the fall of Rome.

I’m witnessing

the breaking of home.

Factions revolt,

beat the war drum.

I’m living through

the fall of Rome.

Did the ancients know

the end was nigh

when torches blazed

and leaders sighed?

Were they all unfazed?

Yet I think not-

the sounds of war

caught them off guard,

the Vandals cry

they heard as they died.

As bickering

the Forum filled,

anger, revenge

divisive killed first

the spark of hope,

eternal strength;

arrogance crept,

hatred slithered.

Long ere invasion,

Rome had fallen

to decadence,

lustful living,

a lost innocence.

Choices were made,

egos were stroked,

the seeds were sown

for destruction.

I see it today.

I’m living through

the fall of Rome.

I’m witnessing

the breaking of home.

Factions revolt,

call the war cries.

I’m living through

the fall of Rome.

Politicians lie,

corruptions deep,

hatreds deeper.

The price is steep,

that our blood will pay

in division,

turmoil and pain,

we move to death

as one nation,

our soul has been raped.

We lock our doors,

barricade our minds,

chanting mantras

like our good luck charms.

We’re torn apart-

torn limb by limb.

We’re all rebels,

fighting ourselves.

Searching for something,

but just for us-

drowning in noise,

suffocating

to the ring of phones.

We lost ourselves-

no, we didn’t,

we SOLD ourselves-

for peace of mind

never delivered.

We’re crumbling down,

breaking apart,

rubble fallen.

We need unity.

We need saving.

We need freedom.

We need to live.

We need to serve.

Solidarity

us a mere dream.

Guided by self,

by lone interests.

What’s in the future?

Who picks us up,

and cleans us off?

Who restores us?

Who supports us?

Returns legacies?

Tear down that wall,

open borders,

help the wounded,

the sick and alone.

Love God, nation,

family, friends.

Lift with strong arms

us from our shame.

The future’s not set.

Our legacy,

our history

are locked in time.

We claim to move on,

but continue

to live like this.

We don’t have to.

We can learn, now,

how to move forward.

My burdened heart

is reaching out

to the victim,

to the survivor,

the fatherless,

the downtrodden.

I pray we won’t

see the ending.

Today, forever-

Will children play

where widows weep?

Will hope abound,

and forget sorrows?

We pen this tale,

every detail

unchangeable

as we go on.

I am so afraid.

We’re living through

the fall of Rome.

We’re witnessing

the breaking of home.

Factions revolt,

play the war songs.

We’re living through

the fall of Rome.

Beauty

Now my heart is free-

It’s a soaring like a bird,

flying till I join the stars.

Guess that’s why I fell so hard and fast,

like a shooting star in the dark.

Come into my secret garden-

Don’t you see the blood red roses?

I painted them myself.

Guess that’s what will happen,

when you play with thorn bushes.

Aren’t they beautiful?

Aren’t I beautiful?

~12-24-2014~