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Beyond Exile

September 30, 2014



In the kingdom of no exiles, even murderers wander

the streets calling for their mothers. And the starving ones,

their souls want the taste of god in their mouths~

they want to drink light, the very green of leaves. 


And here, the daggers of the mind plunge

straight through bodies, leaving no mark.

The pain pours through. The fear pours through. 

The laughter pours through. Nothing sticks. 

The demons who shook their death rattles

around you crumple in heaps, some crying

for their lost fathers, some turning simply to butterflies.


In the kingdom of no exiles there are no borders,

no armies, and the soldiers all sling mud

at one another from hilltops the way

they always longed to as boys.  And the ones

we would send away live in the center of town—

the drunk, the crazy, the maimed, the sick—

they are mayor and queen. 


And what would be a hell becomes a heaven

simply because every one is seen.

Come home to this country of no exiles. 

See yourself mirrored back a thousand times—

you—this surging, singing crowd

tearing down the barbed wire.

4 Comments leave one →
  1. October 1, 2014 12:29 am

    Beautiful. I’ve experienced this with you – your utter acceptance of what I would wish could be exiled from myself. Thank you.

  2. October 4, 2014 11:32 pm

    OMGosh…Laura…this is my favorite of your poems so far…Len also loves it and says hi.
    Bless you for writing these truly inspiring and beautiful pieces.

    • October 4, 2014 11:46 pm

      Thank you beautiful Erika. Much love to you and Len. I think of you both often!

  3. October 4, 2014 11:59 pm

    And Rox–I have experienced this with you too–may we welcome home all of our exiles.

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