Cutting Words

I hope every curving stroke of this pen,

every deliberate line slashed across the page,

cuts your tongue like a razor blade,

so you might feel the vinegar sting

of the sour lies you tell through smiling lips.

The harm you have done to this place,

once a bastion of love, safety, and healing,

leaves a sickness of the soul in its wake,

like a poison droplet spreading in a clear pool.

It hurts me so, this outpouring of venom,

because it twists and shatters the very bonds

of trust holding all righteous things in place.

I cannot trust you within this nest,

like a songbird facing down a cuckoo,

with vulnerable chicks beneath my wings.

So I will batter and buffet for them

in defense of those I love,

until my soothing song has become

the hoarse cawing of the victorious

and you are only scattered feathers.

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