Defending home and family

Thieves line the streets

and eye up my home

breaking it


spilling out

the treasure






in the house next door





My neighbour



A gentle soul

Bars her windows

and walks her hallways at night

Armed with a large axe.


Peaceful am I

yet today

I take sharp saw

and sever the limbs

of our feijoa tree

as a warrior

inflicting a blow

against the enemy


Frenzied sweaty minutes


Deep entrenchment

filled with deadly spears

Awaits with weapons

held ready


The nurturing fruit tree

defends our home.


Next year brings little fruit

as the scars heal.


This poem grew from thoughts of how instinct takes over, when a parent comes face-to-face with the threat of harm to her children.   I patrolled my perimeter, and kept the night watch.  I ran to shoot the intruding gang, storming up and along a stone wall to confront them.  With a camera.  I don’t own a gun.

Certain circumstances draw out my fighting spirit.  And war-cry.  “Clear Off!!”

I felt regret at my lethal spikes when I saw these were children.  A bunch of bedraggled kids with no-one there to care.

Shocked children’s faces staring in blank incomprehension from their thick skewers, lined the perimeter of my imagination.  And the next day I spent the massive effort of untangling my trench and laying my weapons flat.  Next winter they warmed my home with flickering fire in the hearth.  My babies and I slept in the lounge.  With no curtains to hide us from our neighbour on night prowl with her axe.

We don’t live there no more.

The adult minds behind the repeated burglaries sent children as stool pigeons to do their dirty work.

Pretty well this is the way I view war.  Bloodied fragments of children everywhere.

If I were to kill a marauding man-eating dragon, would I send destruction upon him while he is holding eleventy-million children hostage as a twisted-sickening ‘armour’ around his scaly body?  The screams of those children receiving the force of my wrath would torture my mind and my soul.  While the dragon grins and wraps another cloak of blood around his stinking body.

His time will come.  And it is almost here.

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  1. My Tropical Home

     /  Friday, 10 May 2013 at 5:43 pm

    Yes, his time will end soon. In the meantime I just pray for those I cannot reach physically. We do our best and trust in God.


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