She was only bitter because they fed her
dried lemon rind
and washed salt into her wounds
letting the chill of air cut deeper sting
she was only bitter because they made
such production
insisting she believe things told in falsehood
and when at last she said
“okay I believe you”
though in her orange heart
there was only truth and truth
said no not yet
they smiled and bared their fangs
gladdened to cut her mercy with their deception
why she wondered
was this a game played routinely between souls?
better off doing anything than
rubbing citrus and sea water
between their claws?
what caused soured hearts to seek?
the dismantle of those
who believed in tide and warm beach
welcoming them home to seeking arms
why must they make wreckage and pillage
of comfort for annihilation and harm?
could it be the hurt branded on their own
pelt before they knew of lifting the knife
and cutting themselves?
turning then to others for absolution of their sin
if in destroying a clear water heart
their own could redeem
(Image: Frida Kahlo, http://lasvegas.informermg.com/2011/03/19/frida-kahlo/)
Reblogged this on thefeatheredsleep.
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Destroying clear heart to redeem their own. It often feels like this doesn’t it? It’s so hard to make sense of the world and other people sometimes. Try to hold onto love. Most people act out of love, even if we don’t understand their expression of it.
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Reblogged this on The Militant Negro™.
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Pingback: Redeem | wwwpalfitness
You make me line Mondays (sometimes)…
“why she wondered
was this a game played routinely between souls?
better off doing anything than
rubbing citrus and sea water
between their claws?
what caused soured hearts to seek?
the dismantle of those
who believed in tide and warm beach
welcoming them home to seeking arms
why must they make wreckage and pillage
of comfort for annihilation and harm?”
Powerfully done, every bit of it.
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Cor if I make you like Monday’s then I’m doing something right! 😉
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Yup. But you do mostly, my friend. You do.
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I never liked Sunday nights I used to get very anxious, now I have come to appreciate them a little more, but Monday mornings are a hard one it is true
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They are… very hard…
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I’m with you there 110 percent.
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*like Mondays
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Beautiful, one of my favorites.
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