It pours over my head
Landing on my shoulders
Because you think I am strong.
My knees buckle with the weight
of your anger and words.
Take them back.
My load can't stand them.
You were my salvation.
My blessing, my cooling fountain
Now merely a volcano of emotion.
So sorry it ended this way.
Go home.

My turtle heart was covered.
Sat in the middle of the path,
Of all I believed,
Of all I had done.
Justice would never fail.
People do what's right.
How many times
my turtle heart sang the
song in heavy traffic.
For thirty years, I crossed
that road.
On the day it counted most.
Traffic hit my turtle shell.
Cracked my heart and soul.

Each of us fills our cell
With the honey word
Imagination or real
Working to fill the nest
Building off the life collected
Humming with trial and error
Preparing this giant nest
Sharing with each other
The work we made.
Sweet, maybe deadly if too close.
Unknown workers.
Working side by side in this creation.
Unified in purpose.
Collected using smoke and mask.
To slap on biscuits and devour.

Down the red clay hill.
Tracks travel the gravel path.
Deep ditches filled with water
on either side.
Coal thrown from the railway cars.
Little girls walk along the tracks.
Gather the shiny black lumps.
Holding handfuls.
Listening for the ******* engine
for planned escape.
The jump aside and up the hill.
Not knowing the mighty weight
crushes past faster
than sound can warn.
Pulling under in brutal force.
Parents hit by crushing sadness.

Part left untold;
Not on the side
where can share
all that needs to be
shared.
Only half truths known;
the other half is burning
at my ribs and aching
to release.
Only the maker knows
the full truth.
Wicked to share the
full thought which
might not be the full
truth, but needs to be
said.
Not one wrong alone.
Unfortunate truth.
Doesn't make it hurt less.

Life offers no ease.
No rest from the hardship.
Just the misery of being.
Sleeping on rocks
With no relief.
Travelling in the turmoil
for the day.
Never feeling life's blessings.
Looking for release.
Rolling with the blows of constant woes.

When she was young and beautiful,
She mattered;
When she grew old and weak,
She no longer had a place.
She mattered when her legs
were thin and tan;
She did not matter when
her legs had ulcers and pus;
Where is her place;
How can she have no priority now;
Still loved, but no place.
A life not worth saving.
Only youth has value.
Age has wisdom to see
the place of age.