Weapons of choice

Some things just need a broader audience so I am reblogging this in hopes that more will see this beautiful writing!

Hey Sparky! What Time Is It?

I heard it first

in elementary school.

They told me I should

fear the sticks

and dread the stones

but count the words

as harmless.

And that

was how I learned

that bruises only count

when they are visible

to the skeptical eye

and as long

as my eye wasn’t black

and my arm wasn’t blue

the bleeding in my heart

didn’t matter.

Maybe you learned it, too.

But it’s difficult

to convince Love

that our red-stained shirts

mean nothing

since, look,

there isn’t a mark

anywhere else.

Love knows better.

Love sings over us

and the music soars

through time

and space.

The power of life

and

the power of death

pulse within words,

power never known

by sticks

or stones

or atomic bombs.

But as Love sings

the words are

kryptonite to pain,

and our shirts

once stained

now dazzle white

with such brilliance

that hate must shield

its blackened eyes

and…

View original post 2 more words

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One thought on “Weapons of choice

  1. thiedeann says:

    Shared it this morning. Very good stuff.

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