Unsaid things 2
by Ieisha McIntyre
One can always recognize hate.
The face of hate is that same ghoul that haunted
your childhood dreams and chased hope from your
Love is the thing that shifts, changes
transforms and requires that ones eyes adjust,
retrain, refocus. So stunned
we are transfixed
left in doubt, our myopia, makes love peculiar
and enemy in our sight.
too terrorized to shift off our center and turn to the muddle
away from the method of hate--
We sit in the darkness of our minds
eyes scaled and souls weighted.
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