Monsters

Evil no longer hides itself
Under bed frames,
Inside closets.

It lurks behind smiles,
Kind gestures,
Familiar faces.

It's an old man sitting on a porch.
An unraised ferrel child.

It's in the atmosphere,
Thick like smoke.

It surrounds us,
Dines with us,
Says hello to us on the street.

These are not campfire villains,
These are the stories we wish we never had to tell.

Our nightmares walk amongst us,
And make each day lived an act of bravery.

Humans.
The scariest monsters of all.

God helps us.

This Heart of Mine

Let's state the obvious:
Broken? Check.
Abused? Check.
Neglected? Check.

Cause and effect.
That's the reality of life,
But it does not define.

My heart?
My heart is something beautiful,
Something merciful,
Something exposed.

It's bloody.
Dripping with love and empathy
For the souls that capture it,
Deservingly, undeservingly, and unaware.

It rejoices when those held in it
Smile with the slightest achievement,
Laugh with the simplest joy,
Or rise triumphantly from the most painful ashes.

It aches when those it cherishes
Suffer loss of love or life,
Struggle to recognize their own value and worth,
Or latch on to something or someone harmful for them.

My heart?
Is it afraid? Yes.
Is it damaged? Yes.
Is it vulnerable? Yes.

But it still beats
With rhythm and strength.
And it will bleed with love and light
Until it returns
To the One who created it
Just as He wanted it to be.

Arise
Acrylics on Canvas
Artist: Kate Hart

Stench

How do you sleep at night?
Is your soul that void?

You have a stench...
Rancid,
Vulgar,
Lingering.

So well rehearsed,
You no longer need to review the script.
You fool yourself,
Believing my silence is 'fear of you'.
Don't flatter yourself.

TRUTH decides, on its own,
When it wants to present itself.
So, I've released it to do so.
My assistance isn't needed.

"Truth"
Do you recognize that word?
Are you familiar with its meaning?
I imagine it's as foreign to you
As "monogamy" or "decency".

Do you not see the distance I create?
And then here you come...
Like a moth to the flame,
Only I'm the one that gets burned,
Because I'm the only one
With a moral compass.

I struggle not to allow your dysfunctional weight,
Collapse me to the level of your character,
That creeps lower than the cracks
In the filthy oil stained pavement.

You are where you belong...
In the arms of the blind,
In the heart of the desperate.
So, seek refuge and sympathy elsewhere.
I'm all sold out here.

(Artist unknown)