I’ll treat you

Treat everyone as you wish to be treated.

Reading the news. Bad idea.

Listening to the gossip. Bad idea.

Seeing one photo after another.

Why are we forgetting the love?

 

What if I treated you the way you treat me.

As if you were dumb. Invisible. Worthless.

As if you had no spirit. No soul. No life.

As if you were created for me. To use.

 

What if I treated you the way you treat me.

Unworthy of respect. Of love. Of care.

Unworthy of saving. Of valuing. Loving.

Unworthy of a single thought after you were done.

 

What if I treated you the way you treat me.

Sharing your shame, with glee.

Your bleeding pain celebrated.

Your wounds amusing in passing.

 

What if we choose differently?

Living life with the price paid.

Loving life with the joy restored.

Believing in life, death conquered.

 

What if we spoke in love, lived love?

Not like hippy dippy. But genuine.

I care. Do you . Prove it by caring.

What if we only shared in joy?

 

What if we put the horrors away?

We know it is there. Gasping. Grasping.

We can take away it’s power. We can.

Stop feeding hate. Stop feeding fear.

 

What if we really were the change?

Now. Today. Smile and show you care.

Say a prayer. Say ten. For someone else.

Be thankful. For everything. Even that.

 

What if we could, and we would?

What then? Would the world pause?

Take a breath. Reset. Recharge.

Not for you. For them. Yes them.

 

So tired, lately, of the hurt and hate. The culture of fear and hatred. Instead of ‘DO NOT RAPE’ we teach, “Don’t get raped, and don’t get taped”.  So tired of horrific photos begging to be shared with no action for change. No real desire of change because it is easier to reel from horror to horror instead of shouting STOP. STOP. ENOUGH. NO MORE. In my head this poem was more harsh, more hard hitting but I think we have had enough of that. We need some hope. Some love. Some ___________. Don’t you?

 

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Edge of the Map

At the edge of the map.

In faded ink gone purple.

Beyond this point there 

be monsters. Beware.

We wait, on the edge

of a winter gone long.

We wait, on the edge

of beauty and horror.

Glance one way 

to see beauty. Light.

Glance the other

to see blood. Death.

The edge of the map

clearly drawn, yet

so clearly unknown.

The map of human

hearts is so complex.

Where one seeks

beauty another

rears monstrous.

Birth and death entwine.

Eternity’s promise

seems dim in the

smoke and noise.

Where is He when

we needed Him most?

Ah more importantly

where were we?

Where are we?

Finding our road

wandering to the edge.

Or are we staking out

homesteads in lands

where monsters roam?

Are we hanging back

so far we can’t see

ahead to something

glorious and new?

What if we are past

the edge?

What if the monsters

we fear look like us?Image

Barbed Wire Touch

Our lives pass, one by the other.

Sometimes I reach out to hang

a hope, a wish, a dream, some love

on your fast passing barbs.

You reject my offerings, instead

you swing in for the pound of 

flesh not owed nor freely given.

Seeking not love offerings but

blood and flesh on your barbs.

You don’t want love offerings.

You crave blood and tears.

Riding fast past a barbed

wire fence is dangerous.

One step too close and

you are cut to ribbons.

But this fence moves!

Entangles. Wraps. Reaches.

This fence doesn’t want

to keep the prey it snares.

They are more fun when

you can snag them

another time.

You don’t want my love.

My blood and flesh, 

sweat and bitter tears.

Master of the side swipe,

you know how to reach

the tender parts. 

Deep wounds bleed.

Silent sacrifice cries.

You leave. Waiting.

I’ll heal. You’ll shine

and be back for another

pound and a pint.

I should start carrying

fencing pliers to cut you.Image