We Argue










There exists in me a paradox

–perhaps humanity itself–

For love eclipses my day
and locks me for a time
my arms dropped wondrous 
as I relish
bedtime tales
his embrace
years.
Life.
Yet the same tongue which spins memories
injects love with a truth poison–
Confirms insecurities
Spews regrets of promise
And when love crumples
I kick her more.
Just to be 
sure she’s 
Dead.
Stop.
Is it 
possible?
To be one, not
the other–which hurts
those around me and me.
I amputate trust through tears.
Healing must begin-now-for I
need the entire body to love full. 




With [our tongue] we bless our Lord and Father, and with it we curse men who are made in God’s likeness. James 3.9
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