Tuesday, April 26, 2016

Pass Oceans of Anomosity

Pass Oceans of Anomosity

by Seah Greenhorn
(Poem with copyright)


Wind to sail across harbors,
or through canals
to finally

Oceans of Anomosity.


My tongue; my pen
beloved. Entrusted to me. A gift.
My friend, if used wisely. In wisdom.


My Freedom?

To use these tools.
My desire: not them to abuse.
Use unwisely.

I kneel; I pray
so much more each day now,
as you refuse

my tongue; my pen
beloved. Entrusted to me. A gift.
My friend.

In this time in which we live,
even if I choose to speak lies unkindly,

I choose not,

My freedom is to use these tools.
My desire: not them to abuse. Use critically.

Yet, our tongues are torn, ripped away
sometimes shipped to Siberia. Our pens are stripped from our grips, although we did not panick in violent retaliating hysteria.

You bound/bind our hands
to keep blind
searching eyes.

With pity felt we're sorrowful inside.

For of what value, if you choose to hide wisdom. It rises to heights like Eagles to unseen; destinations unknown.

Its flight alone speaks consolingly beyond your breach. Since comfort preaches deep into crevices of humanity ... unappealing to you?

As meek ones ... shown. Humbled; law-abiding victims who love the law--God's and man's. This quality of life, perhaps ... frightening; foreign to you?

As sight to the blind and then back again
your wavering inconsistencies sway as turbulent winds.


Each tongue; each pen
beloved. Entrusted to each. A gift.
A friend, especially, if used wisely. In wisdom

His Word
is designed
to eternally individually

Everyone to love one another.
Hate what is bad. We are not terrorists.

We are kind and meek. We seek the peace of God that excels the mind.

Though you bind our tongues and chain our fingers behind our stalwart spines,

Wisdom will still other truth-seekers reach
as water to parched hearts and bread to the famished in growing impatient lines.

our desire?

Not to antagonize.

Divided you are. Some apologize; since a part of a united mankind groaning.

Our eyes often fill, then again dry with your weighty duties given to defend, protect nations imperfectly driven.

But, why are our tongues and pens
ones you mark suspicious; suspect?

Why are our freedoms the ones you choose to neglect?

If robbed of rights, where will others feel comfort to curl asleep at night? Should they too cower under cover in fright of liberties confiscated in broad daylight?

Their tongues; their pens
beloved. Entrusted to them. Gifts.
Friends, if used wisely. Or not.

For Wisdom:
For this Privilege
We, the victims,

Do Choose to LEGALLY Defend:

Our Tongue; our pens.
Beloved. Entrusted to us. Gifts.
Our Friends to use wisely. In wisdom.