Root medicine 2: Brothers

Cousin brothers
Forever children in my eyes,
these grown men
walk with me
into my self.

We talk
of love and fear
of mushrooms and Messiahs
We drink fresh fruit cocktails.
and wander the wounds
of each one’s hearts.

We build
a canopy to cover
the wearying
worrying press
into the jungles
of time, and mind,
and mothering, and
lovering,and grief.

My brothers stand guard
at the fountain gates.
While I weave nets of
flowering vines
to catch their falls.

We stay connected
in spite of all
that divides us.

Love and fear
Love and fear
Love and fear
brothers of my heart.


Revenge Song

There are places

where the killer

lives next door

afraid that you

will come for revenge.


Cowers darkly inside

his own memories

buried deep in the well

of his dread.


He has also

lost all of his family

he remembers

when his own heart

turned red.


He has seen

how the grief

becomes fury

he has heard

the blood song

of the dead.


So he knows

that you will

want to kill him.

He believes

there is no other way.


And sometimes

he wishes

you’d do it

But there is something

that stands in the way.


He knows

his own life

could have meaning.

He remembers a time

that was true


Before the madness

of grief, pain, and fury

blocked the things

that would try

to get through.


And there you sit

wrapped close

in your pain quilt

remembering the sorrows

he has caused


One more step

and you’ll find

you have killed him

without thought,

without breath,

without pause.


And so

we are trapped

in this nightmare

and Death

walks among us

each day.


And so

we are trapped

in this nightmare

and Death

walks among us

each day.


But what if

we let grief

wash through us?

And what if

we knew we were one?


And what if the songs

that the dead sing

remind us

to look at the sun?


Perhaps we could

see through the shadow

Perhaps we could

reach out our hands


Perhaps Death

would have time

to rest then.

And cease

his sad

march through

our land.


NaPoWriMo 2013 :Day 25