It’s Black & White

We are all the shades, 

the varied shades of flesh, 

Alternating in their giving and taking 

of screaming blame, shoulder-bending shame, 

of the cups of rage and suffering…

Are we looking to the end? 

Do we know the poison we are drinking?

Do we acknowledge the toxins we are excreting?

We destroy the very love we are seeking. 

Like an old married couple 

locked in a cycle of rejection and cold revenge, 

we’ve lost the art of seeing one another 

with the kind eyes of  lover and of friend.  

Blindly, we clutch denial and lean on our demands. 

When will we simply go gentle and reach out our hands? 

Yeild

Do what you will with me. 

Plow or plant 

or let me lie fallow;

it is not for me to say. 

I am only to yeild 

to your wise farmer hands. 

The husbandry of my heart  

is your concern and you

will bring 

a hale and hearty harvest 

if I will but let you have your way. 

Now you bend and 

tenderly scoop up a bit of the  

wounded and wild earth that I am.