The Power of Words

Dancing girl
Please bear with me
Hear my plea
Hear my prayer

This pain is not yours to carry
This hate is not yours to keep
This war is not yours to fight
This anger is not yours to hold on to
Let go of pain, of hate, of war, and anger

You have your place
You have your land
You have your name
You belong
You are home

Earthen boy
Please bear with me
Hear my plea
Hear my prayer

This pain is not yours to carry
This hate is not yours to keep
This war is not yours to fight
This anger is not yours to hold on to
Let go of pain, of hate, of war, and anger

You have your place
You have your land
Your have your name
You belong
You are home

Deo volente

A Southern Indian Ocean Beach

Two heads of cacao coloured hair
Four brown eyes
Four ocean blue eyes
Two heads of sand coloured hair
All four are dressed in turquoise

Two spoken languages
Hundreds of unspoken ones
As they hunt hermit crabs
Caught in a red plastic bowl
Alcatraz for sea creatures
Who were not fast enough
For double twin power

As soon as the girls turn their backs
Tiny spiky arms emerge
An invisible push and tumbling down comes the first crab
Shiny shell-house and all
A second, third, fourth, and fifth
They run for the hills

A foot steps onto a loose heap of sand
Somewhere in there was one of the escapists

Pebbles are Skittish

Male Victims of Domestic Abuse
The pebbles had rolled off the slopes.
They could not hold on any longer.
They were too light, too smooth, too innocent.
The tornado carried them away.
Male Victims of Domestic Abuse
Parts of his soul.
Parts of his heart.
Parts of him, carried away into the unknown.
Male Victims of Domestic Abuse
So the pebbles lived in the eye of the tornado.
Bouncing around the globe as she saw fit.
They didn’t know of the destruction.
There is peace in the eye of the tornado.
Only sometimes, when she moved too erratic,
Would the pebbles glimpse debris, vomit, spew, and racket.
Male Victims of Domestic Abuse
But they didn’t know what it meant.
When they saw bits of the debris.
They saw bits of the mountain.
They recognized the bits of the mountain.
Violently circling in the debris signature below.
So they came to associate the mountain with violence and rage.
Because that’s what they saw through the eye of the tornado.
Male Victims of Domestic Abuse
They could not hear the mountain over the noise of the tornado.
They could not see the mountain through the ball of vomit and bile.

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