The Remedy

Father wanted quiet,
it wasn’t supposed to be a big deal,
but I was full of play and couldn’t be stopped,
so he backhanded me to the floor.

With every strike I lost a small portion of play allotted me by life,
until the hitting years slowly wore themselves out,
and I grew angry enough to hit back.

I was expert at hiding,
making myself even smaller than I already was,
so quiet I could never be found out.

Now all I want to do is build dancing looms
that unfurl beauty - unkempt, inappropriate, unwelcomed,
things that can’t be unseen,
that must be celebrated.

Violence is the inability to see into the soul of things.

I have become a remedy for that.