There was a time when there were no words
We roamed the Earth
nevertheless communicating
We watched each other’s faces
Saw truth and lies in our eyes
Now we have words,
Lots of them.

My heart is the author of my words
Unless of course I’ve drunk too much coffee
eaten too much cake.
(Or some other mind altering substance)
Sometimes we drink so deeply from the well of sorrow
That that is all that we can spew.
Sometimes bitterness and hate have made us drunk
And the dark is all we see

I am the guardian of my soul
I stand at the gate of my heart
I defend the well of truth and love.
When sorrow comes
Will you hold my hand when I can’t see straight
That’s what Tribe are for, right?