there is nothing civil
in this warring
eye to eye
I count the raised blood vessels
in your eyes/lack of sleep
or too much smoke
or perhaps even grief
scrawling the whites with red ink
in a language I can’t read
for the first time
I taste something thick
and metallic in my throat–
but words are your fists
they always have been
and my fists and shield, still
there are no bruises
on either body
but spirits bleed, too
and they will heal
slower than skin does
or broken bones
my eyes are clear
even after pushing us both
beyond breaking hearts
where this will take you
it will guide you
out the door
***Big thank you to Ian Moore, who wrote about civil war, which prompted this write out.
Having lived through it and draw on memories painful still, I offer a big *hug*.
Thanks, Nelle–appreciate the hug, very much.
Thanks for the mention, yours is much better than mine and I am very glad that something came of it, How horrible it is when relationships implode on themselves
Yes, horrible it the word for it, and I need something stronger than this cup of chai in front of me–I tried to capture anger without violence, hope I did that
There is still mental violence which you cannot write out anymore than I can write without even a hint of wit, guess that is who we are
Sad, intensely, sad! Things fall apart……..No longer at Ease……..Season of anomie, painful partings,…….long lonesome road. Great poem, sad theme, sad painting dripping with sadness!
Yes, it is, very sad, and getting sadder. Someone needs to man up and leave (might just have to be me).
Thanks, Rhonda…..needed a hug
spirits indeed bleed and heal much more slowly than skin and bones and sometimes in the way, we end up monster like, searching again for beauty. Still wish for you a wholesome healing without scars!
Thanks so much, Joe–me too, me too.
Incomparable and inspirationally a pull and push to seek peace! ~Deb
Thank you, yes–a HUGE push, a shove, even 😉