Wednesday, May 2, 2012

Packing my bag

I have a bag made of


Rough and stronng to last a

long lifetime.

No one can see it,

But it was given to mee one under the stars before

I was three.

It hides from veiw all the bad that is me.

Along the way I packed it full of all bad me so that

after awhile even I could not see.

Don’t be angry,selfish,lazy or unkind

so in my bag went these

bad things that were me.

If you nothing nice to say,

say nothing.

Speak only the" truth"

So in myy bag I packed my voice.

Little pictures have big ears

Too many things that you shouldn't hear.

About the neighbor recently divorced now

"Mysteriously" dead,

The uncle's latest drunken rage.

And women who bleed

And men who love the night,

putting their hands where they ought not to be, whispering words into tiny ears

So into my burlap bag i packked mmy ears.

There are many things that are good to see,

like flowers in bloom or the gently rolling sea

But even more numerous are things better left out of site

Such as knock down drag out fights in the night

And bruises on faces arms and legs

And women who bleed.

So in my bag i packed my eyes

And now there is nothing to see or hear or say.

Except all the standard clices

All those who see and think they know the real me

See onlyy the shell of a woman who silently bleeds

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