561 A bloody love poem June, 2015

The morning I was born, so they tell me, I nearly died.
But birth made a murderer of me.
I killed whatever it was tried to kill me.
There have been many close calls, but I’ve been killing
in self defense, ever since.

I’ve killed connections which would have decapitated
what ever I would be,
Mother, twisting me through her fire walking tests.
Father, with his expectations of his duplication.
Certain certainties of faith.
Multiple gallows, built to hang some part of me.
Each structure executed.
Until I found firm foundation inside of me on which to



I found the one person who, most fully herself,
needed no self translating interlinear version of me,
stood strong beside me so I no longer needed my knife.

My wife and I,
each loving each,
are let go
to be together
to be.

About Ken Greenman

Married and Happy. Retired and busy. Living in NC. 71 and counting. December 12, 2020 and it's 72! ... I would love some written comments, critiques, adulation or kind suggestions.... If you have the time and or inclination, please feel free! Not in fear but by faith. We will see. See you later! If you ever want to talk for real, email me and I will send you my cell number.... I am enjoying this!
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