Mother Tongue
Mother Tongue
by
Rick Folker
March 15, 2017
Words...
Words bereft of beauty
bitter words
barely concealing the
viscious intent of
opaque surfaces
concealing truth with
the fake, urging us to destroy - not to make
swallowing the ashes; leaving rage in their wake
Separating the hater from the hate
But I too, have words
Words that patiently ripen
beneath that opaque substrate
they wait, they wait
Roiling like lava my words.
They strain to remember -
Ashen shades of history's mistakes
The faulty rememberings
We continue to remake
Of sharp words, hate words
I have no need to take.
Is it possible that now;
After so much time, after so much pain
We still ache and break?
Are we unable to create, celebrate, or
possibly embrace?
Can we find the courage re-speak, re-learn
The I in me, the thou in you
and find! fail! but at least try
to imagine better words, healing words
Or are we to gather the ashes of bitterness again?
Copyright © Rick Folker | Year Posted 2017
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