Redhead

Creative Commons
Creative Commons

I am the remnants of a tumultuous society.
I am unaccounted for
and left behind –
a birthmark taken under the knife
and striped from the flesh.
I had a mighty flare for the dramatic
and a haunting ability to appear
right when you least expected it.
My tongue swept acidic threads
that wove together like dollhouse curtains.
I didn’t want you to see
every loathsome action
until that last
s e c o n d
had elapsed
and the world stopped spinning
and you sucked in a deep breath
staring down at the path of my destruction
the auburn hair growing
spilling down the concrete
and seeping into the cracks
to nourish this broken landscape.
I am the remnants of a torn society,
tucked in the waist band
flat against your spine.
I am here, waiting,
patient for my chance
to turn the world into a sea
of red haired slaughter.

© Laura A. Lord, 2015


Thank you to MindLoveMisery for their wordle prompt.

Sacrifice

Stock Image: Dreamstime
Stock Image: Dreamstime

I do not think I like this legacy of mine.
Half my life we’ve been at war
and slaughter has become the adulthood I know.
I gave up my generation to fight this war
and we’re leaving behind new gods in our wake.
We’re all hailing at the Church of Trump
and we mistook the burning bush
for George W.
Because the deacons of our NRA society
have told me I need this gun to stay safe,
have shown me that worship
comes in small metal packages,
shot straight into the heart of the issue
of this up and coming,
numb generation.
Where we have exchanged
love thy neighbor
for love thy white neighbor,
thy Christian neighbor,
thy middle-aged, gun toting,
conservative neighbor.
This is a land where we can preach
all life is sacred
and then quote the second amendment
all in the same breath.

I do not think I like this new god.
If I have to have one,
served at every meal,
shoved down my throat
at every impasse of my morals
with a side of the cherry-picked lines
from that book…
I think I like your angry god.
I think I like his old testament self –
where he turned a woman to salt
for her uncontrollable urge to look back
at the city that screamed like babes.
I want his desperate need for
constant sacrifice,
because we’re already doing it.
We’re good at it.
Eventually he might even be appeased.
I want that angry god to step in
say enough, is enough
and put his finger right on the heart of the issue
of every Obama is Coming for Your Guns Commercial
that says we need more guns, more guns, more guns…
More guns to stay safe from school shooters
who blow away my children’s generation.
More guns to protect ourselves from black people,
yellow people,
brown people,
who want our jobs,
to sell us drugs,
to steal our things,
to hurt us.
More guns to safeguard our god
from their god.
Because killing in the name of ours is moral
and killing in the name of theirs
is terrorism.
Because at the end of the day
that god is a loving god
with an affinity for combat grade
automatic weapons
and a righteous cause…
I pray for your angry god.
In Jesus name,
Amen.

© Laura A. Lord, 2015