Scars
creosote bush
hid the horse from
the quirt
steeple flanks
bordering on sin
valley hushed
horseflesh whipped
wounds ooze paid in full
Sunday tithes
one year later
long hair covers
scars heal
horse pulls
buckboard to church
bell rings four times
those who
wronged us
stand up to our scars
Copyright Ms. Sage Sweetwater, firebrand lesbian novelist
pain, rights we don't have but take, cover-up, that long hair growing back and the self-forgiveness we pass off as contrition.
Yes, I hear the bells...yours!
John
Love, Amor
Namaste
Peace and falling bell ropes,
Dayvid
Another great write, my dear Sage!
Peace, love and light,
Amber
stone washed scars
out of the darkness
empowering voices
where the wounds never sleep
hollows toil
pealing bells...
Be well,
Christine