and she rages against them.

Round faces, round eyes –
washed of innocence,
that’s not how it’s supposed to be.
A story unheard of,
suffering – is there something beyond that?
Something so deep that it warps
both the mind and the soul.
How do you take the sheep
down to the slaughter,
knowing what awaits them?
A shepherd leading his flock
into the waiting arms of wolves.
How black was your soul, shepherd?
How black was your heart, shepherd?
Who will bring vengeance to you?
Who will dress in wolves clothing,
who will rage against you?
Out of the shadows, he will come.
My ears are big to hear your lies,
my ears are big to hear their truth.
He will say –
and he will rage against them.
Our of the shadows, she will come.
My eyes are large to see your darkness,
my eyes are large to see their light.
She will say –
and she will rage against them.
Our mouths are hungry for revenge,
Our mouths are hungry for justice.
They will say –
and they will rage against them.
They will shed the clothing of wolves
and they will carry fire in their hearts,
fire and fury and vengeance,
and they will be the good shepherds.
Shepherds who will not be quieted,
by those who bring the sheep to slaughter.



Logically, rationally – she is sound
Half of her brain understands logic
It listens to reason,
It rationalizes quite well.
It is churning,
ocean waves in a hurricane,
tornado on a Kansas plain.
Fire waiting for oxygen;
a backdraft waiting to happen.
There is no reason or logic;
nothing even remotely rational
on the other half of her brain.
It is creeping blackness,
shards of shadows,
a hundred spider webs,
sticky and tangling.
Cold, calculating, chaotic
cruel, relentless, chasmic.
It is this side that creates
distance and disdain,
hate, void, and pain.
Chess moves, scrabble words,
meditation and yoga,
repetition, repetition, repetition,
Until she can reason with demons,
and rationalize with the devil.