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talking to myself

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The collective

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markdohle

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Racial memory runs deep

Branded into the psyche,

A festering wound of the collective soul

With rage often its only outlet,

Though it may hide,

Sleep,

Or be forgotten for a time.

The monad swallowed up

Sinking into the chaotic,

The desire to destroy and kill

Shattering any pretense of humanity,

Personal freedom chained

By the rising of that irrationality

Deeply buried in the unconscious of its people.

Good and evil reversed

With God’s voice or word

Used as the fuel,

The energy,

To devour the soul of the enemy

Outside of God’s love,

Or caring.

Hatred is collective,

To love ones enemy

Or to forgive another

An act of the individual,

Open to God’s grace,

Love,

And healing.

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