Rapid-fire semi-automatic bullets
Explode into the air, sound by sound.
Power hidden in the breath.
Cracks and fissures in the stagnant walls
Of thought and stubbornness.
Fracture the delicate panes of tradition
Into a thousand shards sparkling.
“Love your enemies.”
Feathery whispers, sighs on the tongue
Dropped gently on the currents of a breeze.
Entreat and cajole and entice.
Come with me into the story.
Come into the story with me.
Soft beckoning, inviting as the snake.
The ones that make you bite at the first.
“Call me Ishmael….”
Brutal, harsh glare-into-the-light reality.
Naked truth unveiled. Darkness exposed.
Touch the brain that disbelieves and resists.
And suspends disbelief. Catch-your-breath disbelief.
Brilliance puts them together on a string.
And the beauty is remembered forever.
“I have a dream…”
Watercolors of the imagination,
Oils, clay and bronze castings,
Color the novelist prose. Spin the Old Woman myth.
Rhyme the lyricist refrain. Glorify the psalmist verse.
Soothe a child hurt. Make tender the poet’s sonnet.
“Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?”
Children conceived in hate or violence.
Or carelessness. Or love.
Once loosed upon the world,
They bruise, annihilate. Or heal.
There is no retrieving; no taking back.
The arrows of Artemis or Eros,
Signal death or wondrous love.
“In the beginning…”
Tease and tempt me into bliss
The chosen that make of a sentence, perfection.
Chill the bones. Make the flesh shiver.
Bring the world to my door.
Show me love, rage and unspeakable suffering.
Make me laugh with delight.
Bring me to my knees in awe.
Come with me into the story.
Come into the story with me.
“Once upon a time…”
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