Fire

I don’t want
to argue with you.
Anyway, there is
nothing more to say.

A white man kills
a room full of people
simply because of
the color of their skin
and so many will
jump to defend him,
to call it what it isn’t
and I don’t know why.

I don’t want
to argue with you.
Anyway, there is
nothing more to say.

I sit on the
edge of my seat
waiting for love
to be legislated
from on high
and I want to
laugh because it
seems like such a
silly circumstance
but I cry instead
because I can’t understand
what gives people the right
to think they have the right
to judge me in the first place.

I don’t want
to argue with you.
Anyway, there is
nothing more to say.

There is a fire
burning here.
It fuels love
the same as hate.
Maybe someday,
once we’ve burned
it all to the ground
it will cleanse us, too.
But for now we
walk through it.
For now it lives
within us
for better
and for worse.

But I don’t want
to argue with you.
And anyway, there is
nothing more to say.
~6/18/15
_____
I started working off of the fire theme on a poem a few days ago. As usual, I can’t remember what initially sparked it. Then it turned into a conversation with someone regarding a person’s ability to maintain with nothing but the dullest spark. Last night, half asleep, I jotted down notes on a completely different subject which luckily melds perfectly into the half finished poem I wrote even earlier this week. And I didn’t mean for this to happen with the poem I’d been writing. But that is the way the Powers work, and I’ve learned many times over to just get out of their way.

My heart aches ever more every day for this planet.

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