No one wants to be selfish
it’s just a consequence of loneliness.
I stir and stew, eyes woven,
knuckles drawn like a veil.
Every other word is “no”
there’s no compromise at all.

I am a serpent, a road
undulant and without map.
As defiled as the swastika,
no news leads to interpretation
and I’ve reason enough to rant.

Your heart is only for show,
I stroke my memories
through the aftershock
a shell entranced by the peeling patterns
of my recumbent cell.
The moon never leaves my side.

I wrestle your mass,
your mighty inertia
silencing my retreat.
We do not flow
but stick together,
two sheets sweated through.

Your name arrests me,
a chant grating to the ear.
I hate you every bit as much
as I love you, perhaps a little more.
I’ve blocked all the exits,
your leavenings left to lie.

The word swastika comes from the Sanskrit svastika, which means “good fortune” or “well-being.” The motif (a hooked cross) appears to have first been used in Neolithic Eurasia, perhaps representing the movement of the sun through the sky. To this day it is a sacred symbol in Hinduism, Buddhism, Jainism, and Odinism. After WW2 we came to, at least in the West, associate the symbol with terror and genocide. That is what I meant by “as defiled as swastika”


9 thoughts on “Wordle #25o

  1. Wonderful poem, and I love that you included the Swastika info at the end. While reading, I knew this info already, but I think sharing stuff like this can really give more insight into the reader’s mind.

  2. I am so lost these days. I know when/where to look for the Monday wordle, but when should I look here? I like how you weave wordles, even if I don’t say so often enough.
    These are interesting too, and I have nothing to do with them because I haven’t ventured too far from my own cave of a blog(s) these days.
    Hope you are doing well, as I hope your family is too. I think I read you recently had mother’s day and brownies. Congrats on both.

  3. Too often one symbol gets upturned. The peace that once was crumbled like cookies left too long to bake. And all that is left to taste is the burnt char.

    That one can love as well as hate at the same time. Yes I know that feeling well. Hoping for some peace this summer, for me – for you too!

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