Lynne FincherSpringarden

A Sister's Promise

My brother full of fire
Living life with wild desire
Why do I seem to be so often
The object of your Ire?

I'm not stupid and I'm not crazy
I'm not cruel and I'm not lazy
I'm confused, its all so hazy
Moving through the fog this way.

He is screaming at me now
But it's not at me, I know some how
He's screaming at those who hurt him
Those who beat him and deserted him
Those who abused and defiled him
I just want to heal his pain
I will not allow our Kinship to be slain
Over words misunderstood or said in vain.

But all I can do is cry
As his arrows they do fly
Into the heart of me.

The bond of our Kinship
Stronger than a fleeting friendship
Will sustain us through our insanity
Until we see that we are free.
Love will heal and reveal
Our true humanity.

Love is never having to say your sorry.
For the pain that you inflict.
One day the chain of pain will be broken.
Only loving words will then be spoken.

I'll be your loving sister
Unto the very end,
For the one who is my brother
And not just another
passing friend.

Submitted: Sunday, October 07, 2012

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  • Anthony Di''anno (3/27/2014 5:45:00 AM)

    Stunning. You evoke so many facets of love. The need to read between the lines and understand that the rage being hurled at us is not always about us. Sometimes it is about the person hurling it feeling confused, frightened and lost. We are all children no matter what our physical age. Our spirits are handed down through generations of DNA and experience. We always start each new experience childlike curious and concerned. We set off with the best intentions entrusting our hopes and fears to guesstimates of fate. Our DNA is interfered with and our experiences clouded through not having true choice. Things are done to us without our consent.

    What soldier fully understands why he is, not only willing to take another's frightened heart, but also willing to give up his own. Love truly is the only answer I give David Icke that, but it cannot be bought nor should it come at a price. The only way that love is able to truly exist is through it being freely given from an open heart. An excellent poem. Inspiring :) (Report) Reply

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