By: Lizzie Joy (loveland) Nunemaker
I come back to it over and over again
Another person is crying on my couch
Admitting to despair
Like it’s some kind of secret this world is ruled by the ruler of hell
I went through life wondering why the jaguar-faced indifferent persons
That love in a meat-grinding way, affection in teaspoon servings
Why they often were so much more stable and useful and proper and well-dressed
The rest of us basket-cases seem downright feral
We love in monsoons, we drench the ground with our tears and our
Windswept passions, we shake down the trees for all they’re good for and still want more
Our leg is blown off but we hobble over to staunch the bleeding on a hemorrhaging world
People like us, we shake our heads and our hearts and we turnover the contents of our pockets
To anyone that asks
Without later asking for our receipts
People like us know we’re otherwise moth-eaten and doomed
People like us cry out for help and hear an answer
We are forever the arm reaching up to God,
We are forever the arm being pulled up into heaven.
Blessed, blessed are the poor in spirit.
"overcome evil with good" 