211100
4
Remarkable memories lost in time
somewhat good, stuck between
so many more, others
terribly bad...
some worse than death
death comes easy
when you have
nothing left to lose
winning at best is a new beginning
with a somewhat happy ending
Not crying at the birth of
yet another child
born into a life of second class
at best a lifetime of servitude of bondage
with so little hope of escape
the fear/reluctance
of taking your own life
pales in comparison
i can almost feel it
in the roots of my bones
A story of many truths,
horrifying violence
so many pathways broken
diverging from distinctly different
background images
too faint to see
by rote memory alone
rebuilding the bridge
over oceans of sorrow
a silent struggle which continues
lifelines severed, prematurely
energies which can leap beyond flesh
through the air, perhaps
through inanimate objects
which bear testimony
such suffering beyond imagination
over multiple lifetimes
with no end in sight
still resistance carries over,
beyond multiplying deaths
and egos lost under the deluge
of terrifying suffering
rivers bearing almost universal pain
the burden etched into the lands
perhaps its the abomination
carried over many generations
homing in on hatred, fear and death
repeating signals of malice
not necessarily pleasant
frequent fliers...
evidence burned deeper than the skin
burned into the roots of eyes
from lifetimes perhaps inspired
by otherworldly events
ripples in effect,
for evils cast upon them
although, not by you
the suffering transferred
memories, pain carried
for generations, displaced or not
connected to recurrent waves of
residual misery/pain/death...
spaces, where nature
fills in the blanks
its undercurrent, persistent
undeniably present
programmed within our life codes
providing a means to cope
at least resist the devils
within us all
a sense of solace, where mortar
of healing finds spaces between
violence gives way to silence
like a hard summer rain
striking upon a old fashioned tin roof
Southern nights, crickets sounding
in the distance
lightning strikes
followed casually by distant thunder
roaring, rolling...
calling rains... to wash away
hot brands, whips and chains
forgiveness will not come
without necessary sacrifice
Pain needs something to hold onto
you need to feel something...
to sense what passes through you
when it is a part of you
the place where reality strikes...
where you take a second view
as if
it were you
C2
