It Is Time.

hate forms on the tongue

colors, signs, screams of unknowing

cups filled to oveflowing

droplets of conversation


what is and isn’t

streaming away


communication isn’t screams

isn’t signs

isn’t pointing fingertip daggers of hate

on any side.

language: words, love, caring, understanding …

empathizing in all things

slips into rapids drowning

muddied puddles of filth

ears, hearts, eyes, all clogged

hands that could reach

makes fists

frozen hearts stabbed clear through

with icicle knives of misunderstanding

that might

that could



where does the compass needle aim

to which direction

to which emotion

to which might it lead?

alas, too many have none

but the clamoring voices of those running

on hatred fueled engines.

who should fear

who should care

and why.

not a soul, wisps of what once was and

what once could have been are racing toward more

and more hate.

whose eyes will open

whose ears will hear

whose hands will reach in kinship

to each of us

together not


joined not

split asunder

listening not


and considering what

each of us …

has to say.

the automatic knee jerk of hate

broken clean and cast


fresh bone knitting

new cells forming

it is time to renew

it is time to care

it is time to wish each other … well.