Crowded by Blood

Odd, this, the red skin shame.

Clans of others…

with roots deeply, weakened by transgressions.

That appear hunted like game.

Had my blood been a search part for organic matter.

A reason to mimic heritage.

But, surely, that would be treason alone.

Or, perchance, within a tribe…the coming of age.

Dreams of nature would cultivate.

Would suffice.

Yet, amassed in blame.

No authority to believe my soul of privilege.

Alone but crowded by blood.

Only shame.

blood 3

blood 2

Tribe of One

tribe of one 3

 

Gathering at my feet like forgotten fall leaves,

are the seasons of no reprieve.

Keeping my inner circle, oh, so, tight.

So much so, it becomes difficult to breathe

against all that might.

tribe of one 2

With time and it’s distance being so tightly wound.

No familiar footing can be found.

tribe one one 4

I had once heard of a gentle people…

But then I would ask myself,

kind words…

how absurd.

I had also heard of single tribes…

deep in a plot of far forests.

Of forbidding those travelers seeking spiritual rest.

tribe of one 1

No matter.

It is my patronizing ways that

defend my self depreciating days.

tribe of one 5

Mine is a recipe that can only be made one way.

Mine is a handful of solo clans.

Mine is nothing but wind blown pride.

Looking at but never understanding the other side.