Waxing poetic on thoughts, theory & the times
I’m in love
With a man I’ll never fully understand,
There is a mystery in his depths,
A beauty to his quirk,
I’m captivated,
And intoxicated by his everything,
And he is mine and I am his
Sans the limitations of a wedding ring,
We will always find each other,
Across the miles, minutes, hours,
My want of him is more than physical,
It is out of body, spiritual,
And we will always fall
back together,
Until the end of time,
Forever and ever.
Performative, superficial.
Bandaid for a gaping wound.
The warriors cried,
the elders cried,
the parents,
the children,
and now Mother Earth cries.
Spirit watches
over children made capable
of atonement,
This day
is an attempt,
Though never enough,
to salve the genocide bled;
Yet
Tongue
Bit
Teeth set,
Say nothing
Out of line
With the norm,
Status quo,
Don’t rock the boat,
Itch,
Cough,
Sneeze,
All is fine,
Strain
To
Breathe,
Remove your mask
To show your
Smile
Hot with anger
The memories hit
And I’m taken back
Back
Back to when I was
Grasping for strands of autonomy,
Staking my claim,
Vouching for
My
Self,
And
Gaping
For the words that will hold
That will make my reality
Real
To
Someone
Else,
And I am voiceless,
Gasping,
Begging,
Please,
To see,
What I know,
To feel what I feel,
Gaslit,
And now I know it,
And the feeling is of airlessness,
Oxygen depleted,
Would this be more real if I were bleeding?
I am ill,
See it plain,
Believe,
I know my body,
This sick,
It’s not just in,
A figment of,
A skewed creation
Of my brain
They are unearthing babies,
Children
Who never had a chance,
Against a system we still don’t understand,
That takes and takes and takes,
My human heart hurts,
My sentient heart hurts,
My living heart hurts,
For a wrong far too late to correct,
And as the numbers tally up
Let us not lose sight of the numbers that are really lives,
Of the lives that were not lost
But taken
Stolen,
Genocide in and of our recent time,
And we haven’t learned our lesson,
As we hold stolen children,
This time immigrants in cages,
For being the wrong…
Color,
Creed,
Nationality,
Ethnicity,
Race,
An inconvenience to other plans,
Inconvenience in this land,
Stolen,
Stolen lands,
Stolen children,
Stolen lives
We traveled the roads
Traced the Appalachian to the end of the trail,
Found flat land in Ohio,
And wondered if we saw the edge of forever.
Turned back around to where my family is found
Pennsylvania:
forestry,
farmland,
mountains;
found,
The space I remembered,
With something missing.
Someone.
Felt the drop of my heart floor once more,
Knowing she is only partway here
Though her spirit everywhere,
And with him still
–Papa, in his recliner
Watching the great-grand kids play,
I brew and bring him Coffee
Cream, no sugar,
Little offerings,
Of thanks,
For everything that is,
Everything we are.
As I reach back in generations
I feel closeness to the Divine,
To the source,
Tears are all I have,
To praise and comfort
For we are live, and we are mortal.
As the morning broached;
Leaving,
The heaviness settles to the bottom of my heart,
I am smiling,
With tears in eyes,
Never knowing the finality of each time we part,
Knowing love,
And that must be enough.
She of Letters 