Shards of Splintered Change
I’m not willing to change,
I fear the change in the weather.
I know I’m getting older.
I look back on the days when I could see through the shards of glass,
Images of horror were once placed among my wall of memories.
I don’t want to grow up; I’ll never be able to fill anyone’s shoes.
People are afraid of the world outside,
It moves with the wind,
The rain clouds saturate the graves.
I fear change.
I don’t wish to see the manipulation, I’d like to watch people come together.
What would the world be like if everyone held hands?
How would that change the world?
I don’t want change; it forces us to confront the tattoos on the arm, the blood on our clothes, and the sex and violence.
Sex divides people, and yet it creates them.
The holy wars and the harsh judgments passed between women are unlikely to change the world.
Women are not the only cruel sex.
Fear; let me fear what I do not understand.
Let me fear alone.
Women are allowed to bleed because it is their nature to do so.
The blood of life is worshiped by those can understand the importance of nature and the womb of the female mother.
We all grow in the womb.
It is the birthplace of love, sex, violence, rage, guilt, and horror.
It is the birthplace of stones and polished crystals, dying children and poverty.
The womb creates the changes in the world, the changes that fear and the changes that melt the hot wax on our souls.
Change the way we teach our children.
Change the way we talk to each other.
Change the way he feed our elderly.
Change the way we write songs.
I am afraid of change, how can I help?
I am afraid to change the world, how can I sing?
I am afraid of what I do not keep locked within.
2006-06-24
01:20:39
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11 answers
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asked by
vampire_12002
2
in
Arts & Humanities
➔ Other - Arts & Humanities