… the stabbing.

By J. K. McDowell.

December 2015.

 

The last domino falls, the workweek is done,

For now. I cannot recount the insignificant

Accomplishments – The best, the worst, you know the crimes.

 

There is a lot of talk about “The Other.”

Some foreign dignitary of inferior rank.

All this attention, so tell me, are you to blame?

 

You know, your sovereignty depends on no one.

That is the idea. Do not call me to supper

Expecting me to prepare the meal. I am the One.

 

You know the phrase: “Ain’t no one like me but me.”

Torn apart, put back together, over and over.

We are this perfection and we did ask for this.

 

Break with the chains of tradition that enslave us.

I know the fear, the threats, the wounds, the soul’s emergence.

Sit with me, I will call the healers to come.

 

James, there is an aloneness that can break the camel’s back.

The desert sand makes for a soft sweet landing.

Ah, then the knives come out, ready for the stabbing.

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