The Buried Hatchets

Nobody ever forgets where he buried the hatchet. ~ Kin Hubbard


You bring the hatchet
          each time
   and you bury it deep.
Your friend is still your friend.
Many hatchets more with them
                 you will bury.

But each new time
   they cut you with another hatchet,
it opens up old wounds.
        Some cuts -
as deep as the holes 
     they were buried in -
        take longer and longer
                               to heal.

One day you realize
    the cuts of many hatchets
      have not been healing nicely.
The blood you bleed 
           has left a trail.
                               You follow that trail
to the many other hatchets
    you thought were so 
                                  well-buried.

Maybe you will hoist up those hatchets-
             every last one of them -
            and raise them high
            above your head,
then bring them
                       down
once and for all
with all your might.

WHACK!

Then you can say
“You, my friend,
        are dead to me.”


Oct. 15, 2020
N/A in the Quotable Poetry Contest
Copyright © | Year Posted 2020

Poem

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Horne Avatar
October 22, 2020 at 12:11 PM
Ha ha, love where you went with this one : )
Ranaweera  Avatar
October 20, 2020 at 1:56 PM
A brilliant piece, indeed, Andrea, with smooth flow of words!!
Watt Avatar
October 19, 2020 at 4:54 PM
You've been having some Stephen King dreams again, I see... nicely written free verse on the dark side, my friend.
Dietrich Avatar
October 19, 2020 at 8:30 PM
hope people took it as metaphorical. hahaha. (or was it?)
Laurie Avatar
October 16, 2020 at 5:36 PM
Hello Andrea … very factual indeed Andrea. So often the hatchet remains hidden for the next episode of vitreol - thanks Andrea - Lindsay
Devonshire Avatar
October 16, 2020 at 4:50 PM
A very powerful poem, Andrea. Sometimes we hurt each other by accident, but other times it is intentional. I hate to come to the realization that a friend is "dead to me," but it has happened. Surely a winner in Regina's contest! HUgs, Carolyn
Theraven Avatar
October 16, 2020 at 4:33 PM
True death of a thousand cuts. Vindictive and saucy. Your blade is sharp in this poem. -Richard
Dietrich Avatar
October 17, 2020 at 6:13 PM
thanks so much, Richard. That is what I was going for.
One Avatar
October 16, 2020 at 8:41 AM
Damn.... Dont know if this one is a bit tongue in cheek, with the last stanza or very very dark.. However, great idea for this contest..
Dietrich Avatar
October 17, 2020 at 6:14 PM
thanks, I had no idea where my pen was going with it. I paid tribute to a favorite netflix show of mine at the end. haha.
Onclaud Avatar
October 16, 2020 at 6:07 AM
it's not easy to just bury the hatchet, andie...your stirring work addresses this plight.. huggs
Anderson Avatar
October 15, 2020 at 8:32 PM
Ouch. Well, it happens like that and isn't a rare thing I think. Many a friendship has gotten hacked apart indeed. Well said. I like.
Dietrich Avatar
October 17, 2020 at 6:13 PM
for me this is a very rare thing but I had fun with this!! thanks for reading, Kathy.
Lamoureux Avatar
October 15, 2020 at 7:38 PM
I’m not entirely sure why, but I really like this piece. Perhaps because it makes me think that Stephen King could have wrote this verse. A very disturbing but delicious write.
Dietrich Avatar
October 16, 2020 at 7:28 AM
thanks, I love King, so I love that comparison!
Cunningham Avatar
October 15, 2020 at 7:03 PM
Always best to bury the hatchet, hanging onto to it leads to a slippery slope. Tom
Brul Avatar
October 15, 2020 at 6:24 PM
A brilliant piece! I love how you arranged the words to create a spectacular effect. A sure win! Goodluck! ~~~ BTW, thank you for pointing out the typo in the 6th line of my college poem, "Castles". I appreciate it more than you know dear Andrea.
Buhagiar Avatar
October 15, 2020 at 1:20 PM
I buried many hatchets but a few kept theirs. ~~
George   Avatar
October 15, 2020 at 11:13 AM
I know that feeling! Great writing Andrea. ~ Elaine
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