hate forms on the tongue
colors, signs, screams of unknowing
cups filled to oveflowing
droplets of conversation
truth
what is and isn’t
streaming away
wasted.
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
melt
harden.
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
separate
joined not
split asunder
listening not
ignoring
and considering what
each of us …
has to say.
the automatic knee jerk of hate
broken clean and cast
healing
fresh bone knitting
new cells forming
it is time to renew
it is time to care
it is time to wish each other … well.
j willis sanders 