Words die in my mouth.
Hoodoos rise. Tangerine hotels smearing through forest.

Crisp days slip into moaning starlight winds, fierce as a Lion
attacking you in a den.

Nothing to say.

Underground roots dig.
Find my branches, make them split.

I woke up early.
Went outside.
Full moon going down.
Sun coming up.
Rainbow clouds to the west
Red orange, blue violet to the East.

Captivated, it held me hostage
turned the vault door,
words died in my mouth.

Silence stormed in
brushed my canvas
with strokes from an
invisible painter.

My eyes filled up with sea.
The waves crashed inside me.

Turning into silence, every word came alive like the new grass of spring on a hill that remembered
my rain drops on its scalp.

You were the blossom of my heart in a place that cried my name using my eyes to fall from.

Turning into Silence

I heard your other worldly wings
collaging petals in a scrap book
that changed everything when I saw it.

How can my limited ability even begin to describe it?

Bang.

let them do the job
as they do we need to simply look the other way

The Islamophobia is suffocating
the saturation is enough.

There are children there
but we don't see that.

Children without fathers.
Children without mothers.

The Christian fanatics
are not so different.

You have your flag,
You have your gun.
So do they,
but they're the evil one?

Take a mirror and as you do,
you will see, they look like you.

Your religion is no better,
no holier or worthy,
we are all human
all equal.

But some are more equal than others.
Aren't they?

N. Hedges

Different* people, react *different *ways.

Some of them, will stand still, and silent, and tall. They will make you think they are invincible. They will take your bruises, and accept your words, and they will retain their silence until it is all they believe. They will wrap their pain in darkness and shadows and glints of rain, until they fade away. And only then, will you notice the path destruction you left in their wake.

Others, will cower and flinch away. Weak, you will call them. Brave, someone will contradict, to wear their emotions so care-freely. You will stop, at some point. It is no fun, after all, to torture someone who never fights back. And it is obvious, too, too obvious to avoid getting caught for long. Will they fade, or shatter, or hide, or smirk? It depends. You will not always face the consequences.

The inexperienced ones, will fight back. Will match you blow for blow for cut for cut for life for life for death for death. An eye for an eye turns a whole world blind, but this has never been a fair fight. You have always had the upper hand, so you will always win. Time is a matter of opinion and resistance. You will eventually, crush their soul. But they fought back, and they fought against you, so justification is your dominate opinion and emotion, not regret, or fear, or remorse, not anything else.

There are more. Variants upon variants of everyone who didn't deserve your brand of torment. Variants of the bullet proof vests, and the children, and the soldiers.

The utterly helpless ones, will turn. You will beat them down, but somewhere, somewhen, they will become you. They will become the damnation of the freaks and outcasts and misfits, they will crave power and acceptance and use fear to gain it, they will inflict pain on others to starve out their own. If you meet them, perhaps you will understand what you did. Or perhaps you will join them, or cower in fear at your once-upon-a-victim.


Were you them, once?
                            humiliated, and scared, and bitter, and rejected?


Will I become you, someday?
                                 *torturous, and cruel, and cold, and powerful?