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Seven Years of Silence

I thought the first was hardest,
the sudden change leaving a schism
between the then and the now
which I did not know I would survive.

But the second was harder still,
and I grew sick for loss of sound.
The echoes of old words
haunted my dreams.

The third year I spoke,
I laughed, I danced, and I sang.
They beat me for my defiance,
and left me faint on the floor.

I hated them for the fourth.
All.
Goddamn.
Year.

The fifth year I managed to move again,
my aching body
going through the motions of living
with none of the vigor.

I learned to live again in the sixth.
food felt lush on my tongue,
I grew stronger,
and my body became hale and hearty.

I spent the seventh in stillness,
surrendering my newly mobile limbs
in searching for a nimbler mind
with mute motivation.

I sought balance in the eighth year,
looking for the fine line
where I could be my best
without sacrificing myself.

In my ninth year, I found my heart again,
fallen among the fragments of my faith.
I took it back and welcomed it home,
whole again at last.

My tenth year I waited,
refining lessons learned,
and forging fiercer strength
for the day I would be free.

I spoke again on my eleventh year.
Three simple words:  “Let.  Me.  Out,”
ringing loud and clear –
they set me free.

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Songbird

The songbird sings a lovely song,
the spring is in her tune.
And though the flowers flex their powers,
her voice is the brightest bloom.

The songbird sings a lonely song,
it’s raining in her soul.
The long years and buckets of tears
have taken quite the toll.

The songbird sings a bitter song,
the world can be very cruel.
It took her best, it smashed her nest,
and made her feel the fool.

The songbird sings an ugly song,
she doesn’t see her beauty.
The world’s lies clouded her eyes –
her flaws are all she sees.

The songbird sings of sweet rebirth,
for all her dreams came true.
Loved at last – the clouds have passed;
only the sky is blue.

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What hath God wrought

The electric telegraph was invented in 1837.
by two teams, independently.

One was Cooke and Wheatstone,
whose model was accepted by the UK.
The other was Samuel Morse and associates,
whose model became the standard for Europe and the United States.
In 1844, Morse sent his iconic message, “WHAT HATH GOD WROUGHT”.
The last telegram was sent in July of 1999,
and a signoff followed the message.
And 155 years later,
the words echoed:
“What hath God wrought?”

God hath wrought war:
The American Civil War,
The Boxer Rebellion,
The Russian Revolution,
The Mexican Revolution,
The Great War,
World War II,
The Korean War,
Vietnam,
and the Iraq War
to name a few.
But not all.
No, not all.

God hath wrought equality:
The 13th Amendment to the US Constitution,
The 15th Amendment,
Brown vs. The Board of Education of Topeka Kansas,
and The 24th Amendment.
Feminism:
The First Wave,
Women’s Suffrage,
and The 19th Amendment.
The Second Wave,
Equal pay,
Roe vs Wade –
the fight continues.
The Third Wave,
fighting The Man,
discarding old labels,
redefining yourself,
redefining the world
and what’s to come.

God hath wrought shame:
an indivisible nation divided,
the shadow of Jim Crow,
and Segregation.
Prohibition,
The 18th Amendment,
the rise of The Mob,
and the 21st Amendment.
Watergate,
Iran-Contra,
W.M.D.s,
or maybe there weren’t any,
and Enhanced Interrogation Techniques.

God hath wrought nobility:
Harriet Tubman,
Susan B. Anthony,
Mother Teresa,
Rosa Parks,
Mahatma Gandhi,
Martin Luther King Junior,
The Tank Man of Tiananmen Square,
Nelson Mandela,
and many, many more…

What hath God wrought?
A brave new world that has such people in it.

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The Triumph of Tragedy

Don’t try to wipe away my tears,
I’ve been cultivating them for years,
and I’m finally strong enough to express
all the pain that I’d repressed.

And the relief I’ve finally found
falls like rain upon the ground,
and a heart withering on the vine
can at last begin to shine.

So don’t you dare attempt to try
to clear these tears from under my eyes.
I know you’re only trying to help me
by fighting a grief that you perceive.

But I’ve found the strength to show my heart,
and not only just the pretty parts.

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The Courage and the Coward

There’s someone that I like
I want to ask them on a date –
My courage says, “Ask tonight.”
My caution says, “Wait.  Wait.”

I stare at her
’til I can’t see straight.
My courage says, “Ask tonight.”
My caution says, “Wait.  Wait.”

The sight of her
spikes my heart rate.
My courage says, “Ask tonight.”
My caution says, “Wait.  Wait.”

I overhear her talk
about a Valentine’s date.
My courage says, “Ask – what?”
My caution says, “Wait…wait?”

How could it be?
Was I too late?
My courage says, “I tried.”
My caution says, “Too late.”

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Love bites

Two unpaired lovers,
out searching every night –
looking for someone
with which to share their light.

But the dark is dangerous
and monsters stalk the streets,
taking bites of halfling hearts
and leaving them with teeth.

Some victims do not make it;
their light fades away.
Vampirized by the experience,
they prowl in turn for prey.

Now two hearts are hunting,
but the game has changed:
one seeks to share a life,
the other to share pain.

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Edge of the Unknown

I cut myself again
and pay the bitter toll.
I’m desperate to feel whole;
I’m desperate for the pain.
When that familiar feeling
hits me like a wave,
I feel as though I’m saved
by the sanguine healing.

It’s curious that what breaks me
feels like remedy
while what threatens to unmake me
is a sweet melody.
For I fear pleasures unknown
far more than the pain that I call home.

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Lord of Heaven and Earth

My weary heart,
beset by clouds,
the rain threatening
to crash down.

My regal heart,
stoic and proud,
bearing the sword
and offering the crown.

My gentle heart
cries aloud,
embracing the pain
as he falls down.

My heart divine
parts the clouds,
swinging the sword
and wearing the crown.