listen

_{original image 2015 @torico}

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hate is a relative thing
a degree of disinterest distance and mistrust
a maddened dog digging holes
searching for what was lost

pain comes between us with awkward silence
an unwilling taste lingering on the edge of tongues
ready to spit as stagnant water plies its trade

something deemed unworthy vying to appear vital
will believe any promise of love
to escape an unnatural mold

we talk in jilted tongues trading bitter fruit for flesh
a weed spreads with spurious roots
burrowing into memory
leaching the soul bare of bone

wounds remind us to heal with a voice like a child trying to be heard
so many stories of war numb us to the aftermath of reality

where is your bloodied uniform
your shattered limb
your toothless smile with deadened eyes

we become immune to the battle within
when there is no wound to be seen without

an estrangement between strangers
who have forgotten how to love

and when we no longer
talk
we forget to listen
to the sound of each vagrant song struggling to be heard

who will heal the bittersweet flower
as it sings to an empty sky devoid of rain

love will survive
if we walk the path along which it grows
speak gently to the wind

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