Volcano

Plumes of dirt
and earth
spit fire...

from depths within us
too deep to measure

we have no referent for depth
we only see the path of destruction,
the burning aftermath of heat
the trail carved by chaos..

we sometimes smell the smoke of lies,
but usually we are choked
before we see the fire

Words are like lava
Molten, seeping, living..
in that they build up.....like life that thrives in ash...
or words destroy...
like black sand
in which nothing can grow.

Our words are like volcanoes
spewing life or death
from the well within us...

We are volcanoes
When we breathe in the sun
We exhale the silversword

When we soak in the darkness
we spit out the dust...

* silversword is a flower that grows in volcanic mountains of Hawaii