#56

finally, i got so tired of words -
and the way they were being used
to destroy what we love
and who we love
and even how - 
that i quit them.
just stopped writing.
like the fury of a hundred years
could be contained instead
in prayer.
but when the answers didn't line up
and my own silence 
started to feel more like cowardice - 
i quit that too.
had a run with rage. and ignorance.
i found it is terrible to hate,
even the haters.
so I'm picking up the words again -
like so many wild flower seeds -
and i am throwing them
into the wind.
into the abominable hatred -
even as it tries to oppress - 
i am throwing the words and the seeds and the light
back in the face of the darkness
and i am hoping
that in the midst of all this dirt and manure - 
our wild flowers will grow.
And they will take over 
all this shameful, barren bullshit
with their outrageous color.

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