It's not one big thing.
It's not even several big things. It's like a bunch of little things, ever-changing. Things you can't keep up with. Things you can't keep in your grasp. And they make you feel like you're drowning, like you're suffocating. And you're scared. So, you open your mouth. But you can't scream. You can't yell, or plea, or beg. Because you have no right. You have no reason to suffer. Yet you do. You suffer. And it's all those things, those little things that pile up. They overwhelm you. You can't control it. You don't even know what they are half of the time. They're there, and then they're gone. But they linger. And you suffer. Yet you can't scream. Because you don't feel like you have the right. Because you don't think anyone will care. When the truth is You don't care. Because you can scream. But you won’t. And you keep suffering. And you sit silently staring at a wall, Beginning to wonder, How can anyone save me? How can anyone hear me scream? If I never even opened my mouth to begin with?
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Sometimes I feel like a zombie, aimlessly wandering through the night.
Darkness falls upon me as if it were blankets of dynamite. Heavy, heavy danger yet familiar, comforting unease. A loneliness I long for in the wake of my reprieve. I stare ahead at the nothingness that I begrudgingly drift towards. Quietude surrounds my struggling thoughts that are whisked away, ignored. Ticking hands sweep at absent time, my heart rate dangerously slows. All the while trapped within a shell, empty despite my lying soul. A voice attacks my inner ear, calling my name with concern. "Are you okay?" They ask, disturbed but trusting they will be consoled. What happens next? Wouldn't you like to know. And me? Well, so would I. But too little left to care or remember what words I used to lie. Are you that way, cold and hollow, ever trapped and calm? Dare I say at peace within oneself, yet fearful of being stuck? Stuck in this life, this void, this emptiness. Nothing no longer felt. No matter the effort you muster to escape, those are the cards you have been dealt. And although you feel like your glued to one spot, those hands of strife keep ticking. Sweeping at hours, minutes, and seconds - time you could have spent living. Because here I sit - still and unmoving like a zombie passing through the night. My flesh not rotting, myself still human, but a corpse undead am I. Greetings Mr. Man. Sit down, make yourself comfortable,
Because I am about to suck you into my scary underworld. A place so dark and chilling that you never knew existed. A place even more frightening for those of us who are not Caucasian. The world in which I live is vastly different from yours. It is an existence reduced to caution, proof, fear, and locked doors. You look at me confused now, as if I am being dramatic, But the truth is that we are all good actors, and I’m simply just being pragmatic. All you care is that I’m legal, that I’m white, but I’m a girl, So there goes my higher status on your stupid totem pole. There goes my rights to choose, my rights to speak, to act insane. All that matters to you now is my ass and not my brain. Sure, men fought for freedom, that I know to be true, But women did not just stand by, we played a role too. Nurses when you needed us. Mothers – not always by choice. Left behind to raise your children. No small task to be rejoiced. Women hoped to raise them well, with morals and respect. She prayed that she taught them how to love, forgive and protect, And simply because she is a woman in this tragic world, She knows how to put up a fight, fighting solely to be heard. A fight like no other that she ignites in her child. Fighting for our rights, for our freedoms undefiled. You wonder why men are supposedly seen as “superior?” Well ask the one who raised them, I’m sure she will make it quite clear. Since she is the one who does the work then why can’t she just have a say? With her body, with her voice, with her job, with her pay. She works so hard to get ahead with every chance that she gets, But unfortunately for her, she does not have a dick. See according to some people on this godforsaken earth You must have one thing to get what you deserve. But do not be mistaken, you must be born with it. Forget a transition, Because if you are not biologically a man you have no ammunition. Her body is hers and her alone. It does not belong to you. Yeah, her body creates a life, but do not forget she has one too. It starts with her precious heart pumping blood throughout her body And extends into her soul, one of which all men should envy. So, let me ask you something, not a favor but a question: What makes you think you have the right to another human’s body? What makes you think you have the right to how someone loves another? What makes you think you are better than someone because your skin is a different color? How do you have all these rights to all these choices and decisions? And why are you the only one who can have a voice and big ambitions? Why is it that you think you are better just because you are a man? Tell me, please! I’m begging you. I truly do not understand. One more thing, before we go. A question if you don’t mind? Does it scare you: potentially losing power and being left behind? Does the thought of being raped of rights make you feel unsafe? Terrified to walk the streets alone, praying for God’s precious grace. Here is the thing though, I do not care what your answer is to me, Because as long as men are answering for us, none of us are free. And until all voices can be heard and equally represented Humanity can never move forth in this “one-man-world” dimension. So, if you think that this is right, if you think this is okay Then you are severely mistaken, Mr. Man. You really are insane. The world in which I live, the one I just took you to Is no place for any human to exist, but I can make an exception for you. We are lions, we are prides, we are the same
They live to survive, we live for the game They’re born in hopes of making it passed their cub days We’re born in hopes of growing to be old and gray A lioness protects her cubs from being eaten alive Mommy dearest keeps us safe from the harsh world outside They hunt to kill and kill to eat We work to earn a paycheck each passing week They all sleep beneath trees to shelter the weather In beds we all lie beneath a roof, together To protect their pride, they need strength and courage For us to raise a good child, it takes a village They do nothing but moil for tomorrow’s sunrise We grind on the daily for rent and our food supply They combat starvation and coalitions nearby We fight for our freedoms to live and to die We are lions, we are prides, we are them, but tame Like them, we live to survive each passing day My ribs cave into my chest as my heart grows two times too big,
Pounding, banging, and pushing its way out, it is becoming a regular gig. I sit. I breathe. I close my eyes and tell myself everything is fine. But it only gets worse, the shrinking and growing, because I do not believe my own lie. The panic starts when I hear of you, your issues, and your pain. It strikes me hard in my chest and sucks me down like a drain. I love you very, very much, but you are extremely ill. You will never want to help yourself though, you would rather just take a pill. The day we went over to your house to help you clean it up Is the day I saw, experienced, and realized how sick you really are. I thought I knew what was wrong with you and what was going on, But nothing could have prepared me for what I was about to stumble upon. It is like when you are a kid sitting at the top of the monkey bars, And your friends yell up at you to jump and become a superstar. But the nerves kick in, you overthink, and suddenly you are on a bridge Staring down at rushing water flowing through a great, big ridge. You think it is a long way down and scary as all hell. You take a deep breath in, about to jump, but then you hear the bell. Recces is over and so is your fear as you climb down the long ladder, And you have no idea that tomorrow you will jump, and your tiny kid leg will shatter. I thought I knew how bad things were. I thought I had it right. But when I jumped from the bars, off went the dynamite. I may not have broken a bone, but I did not walk away unscathed. Something broke deep inside of me and left me in a daze. Four hours of pushing the machine that sucks up all the dirt. Four hours in one room alone, alone with all my hurt. Hurt for which I did not know ever existed at all. Hurt that stung like a fresh cut being cleaned with alcohol. Just cleaning up the physical mess that was left from many years Made me see the decades of mess that lied beyond your ears. I was not just a scared little kid a top some monkey bars, Afraid of jumping off the metal and crawling away with scars. The jump was not the scary part, or falling to the soil. It was getting there in my mind, the feeling of great turmoil. So, I jumped, and I landed, but I bruised up real good. And you will never notice. I do not think you ever could. The love you have for your family is undeniably clear, But the faith and respect you have for them has never and will never be there. You would rather live in your own, stupid bubble of pain and misery. You would rather suffer your life away and do it bitterly. Like I said before, I love you very much, But you are your own monkey bars that you will never touch. You will never go near them or dare speak their name. You will not even acknowledge they are there. It is like a sick little game. And because of all that, you will never be at the top Finding yourself looking down and scared to make the hop. You will never have the chance to choose whether or not to jump, Because you will not even admit they are there. You will never speak up. And while that is all nice and dandy for you in this moment Those you love undeniably are waiting for your atonement. Most of us leapt from our monkey bars, although we tried to hang on. And I am terrified that when you try to climb up, your monkey bars will be gone. It was the second time in my life I had seen a human’s face
So small and pale in a casket, the final resting place. The first was when I was young, and my memory was not keen. The second time I was older, and I remember everything. The smells of all the people who were hugging with streaming tears Searching eyes looking around for you, the man who is no longer here. The third is the day it happened, when we all said our goodbyes To a man who changed and influenced lives, one of which was mine. I did not know you well and I did not know you long But somehow that did not change my love for you, for it was very strong. You always said I love you, and you always knew why And I always said it back, without having to blink an eye. Yet somehow when I stood up to read a poem for you I felt like a fraud and a fake, even though my love was true. I looked at all the faces that longed to have you back, All the tears, sorrow, and broken hearts draped in cloth so black. I had no idea what they felt, the pain of losing your love, Of never seeing or hearing from you until they are up above. I stood up by the alter for you, to say a final farewell, And I spoke prewritten words about you that I never knew myself. Now I must confess something, a secret that clouds my heart. It has to do with you and me and when you finally made your part. I could not cry a single tear, even though I really tried. You see, the loss I felt when you were gone made me horrified. It was not that I would miss our chats on the telephone, Or that I would miss our card games and spending time alone. I could not feel sad about the times that we never even shared. What made me sad is that I never really got the chance to be there. I need to admit that I was jealous of those mourning you. I wanted to feel the same kind of loss and heartache too. I wanted to speak of you myself, with my own memories. I wanted to share of things we did and tell my own stories. I want to smile and laugh looking back at our inside jokes. I want to feel warmth in my heart when I hear our song on the radio. I want to feel like I knew you and am able to share your legacy, But unfortunately, I do not, and I cannot, and that is what truly hurts me. Now I know I did not know you well and I did not know you long, But somehow that does not change my love for you, for it is very strong. We may not have shared a lot, between you and me, But I realized something important: that our thing is that we are family. You always said I love you, without ever blinking an eye, And I always said it back Grandpa, and that is the reason why. |
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January 2021
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