Fold the fact in fear–flood the
lines-lure the
old, the young and the all in-between spreads in
vicious bytes of hate –light, and burn to taste -
crease recipe in a malevolent page of history
in the
making - save on a shelf for a later era -
or -
stop stewing, brewing, cooking, looking for
stop stewing, brewing, cooking, looking for
fear, smell the proverbial roses and look - at the
sea and sky, mountain and meadow, and when
the blood dries and the streets are swept clean -
gather children about you -
and dance
until doves
fly
I will join the dance with arms spread wide, keeping my eyes peeled for those doves.
ReplyDeletesmart metaphor.
ReplyDeleteI'm all for that recipe!
ReplyDeleteThat does indeed sound like the best direction to take in the face of the reality which confronts us..beautifully written
ReplyDeletejust another page turner cooking up a storm ... Love love love ...
ReplyDeleteYes, dance until doves fly. I like this invitation!
ReplyDelete