you see me
but you don’t see me
you hear me
but you don’t hear me
you feel me
but you feel fear more
you know
but you run from what that could mean
drowned out by past experiences
packed in your trunk
traveling too far into your future
luggage, that was meant to prepare and propel
you forward
not slow you down
nor halt your progress
although you may need extra gas
for the extended stays and misdirections
but still you so much more
as you rode by
the scenery promising more perspectives
and views to behold
hmm…
what I’m saying is
you see, hear, and feel deeper than anyone I’ve known
with a familiarity specifically designed…
for me,
let me tell it
you’re already above anything I’ve encountered,
or experienced
but still,
the same result persists
you’re so different,
even that doesn’t do you justice
buy you’re still the same
and I’m still the variable left
feeling so different
because
everyone is the same
not because they aren’t unique
but
because you all choose the same road
even in your different paths
and though we all must come to a crossing
where we meet-
our paths intersecting
as we progress through life,
and then you’re gone
at least in the way I first envisioned you
but in my rearview
all I can think is
wherever you are heading
I take solace
knowing you are still moving forward
the best way you know
and all I can do,
however far,
or close
is
admire your drive
though I am the only one on ‘this’ Road
thinking to myself
“Why didn’t you just spin-off
and join everyone else?
I must be tripping…”
Inside
Freedom Writer
often we do the things we have yet to do
what started off in our mind
was still lived
just not expressed
I watched you
I went to a stall
my only privacy
from the things that pry at me
compartmentalizing-
what has already died in me
what stays alive in me,
and the things that continue to die in me
all three which disguises me
but I cried
inside of my stalled hide N seek
because you spoke a truth so potent
and sacred
that only emotions could respond
for the lack of what any words could begin to convey
I saw your pain
I was your pain
I am your pain
I ‘feeeeeel’ your pain
often looking for those with exact experiences just to decompress
but the contrast is what offers the most healing
how else can differences blend
mend
then amend
making amends
that no longer depend
to depend
with the need to defend
or pretend
but rather ascend
because all, tends to end
and then, begin
acquaintanceship, relationship, and friendship
narrated by-
a whole hearted, spiritual, and soulful shaking of hands
a knowing,
where gender age and color bear no relevance
only the correspondence between stars and earth
as above
so below
so-to-speak,
journeying highs and lows
like a ship embracing the waves of the sea
we all communed
knowing that it was life we felt
and life we sought
situations losing the need of mirrored pain
because as I recognized your story
I saw mine
possible generations gender and geographics between us
and still you reached me
because we went to the same place
and wrote it out
finding freedom,
in moments we were once prisoners of
truth is like a schadenfreude
sadist
and masochist
truth is also liberating
beautiful
and purposeful
making us all free within it
in our own dualistic ways I suppose
today,
truth made a warrior cry
I’m almost beyond the shame of it all
whether a Jewish 13 year old girl hiding to live
ultimately dying because who she was
in my own way…
I get it Anne Frank
and maybe, I didn’t just cry for me
nor just for you
but for us
us that hide to survive
and still feel fated for death
without a full chance at life
that’s been my feeling for 32 years
living your years twice
before I found the courage to write my truth
in the midst of my fear and pain
that you had discovered at only 13
symbolically, 13 was supposed to free my people too
but you know as good as anyone
freedom is more than documentation
but the people you freed in your departure
because the unlikely courage you found fleeing genocide
has spanned across the globe
and now I too, share your spirit
here in America,
one of many disciples of you, Anne Frank
the Original Freedom Writer
Remember My Place
remember my place
where I’ve been placed
its lack of, yet ever opening space
a space with barely any space
a space that is a place
an ever open place spaced for mistakes
mistakes that take place in this space
place mistakes in space with haste
and if the statements you make in this place
go beyond your limit of space
you will be confined to an even smaller place of space
until you’ve learned your place
but how much space can a place take,
if you take place in a closed space?
don’t speak, don’t do better, don’t be better Way
because those that run the place that govern your space
will always save face
but this is where courage takes place
and spirit takes space
so yea…department of corrections, I’ve been put in my place
you put me back in place
in my place
with black sheep,
for me to save more from the space that you take
from those you cant face, yet save face by the gates you create
which form a place that takes up space
and I get angry and shake
but my faith won’t break
until I shake this place
and take my place
socially distanced beyond your gates
so I can create a space
for black sheep that have learned and found their place
with whatever space they make
because the meek shall inherit the…
and We CAN’T SHAKE that FATE!
AHH!
Miserable Company
we came together
us three,
and made one
one body of,
shock
shame
and shackles-
an all too familiar ringing that dialed up our PTSD
while we answer it’s call with emasculated concession
and dignified contempt-
at the table in silence
jovial…
just hours before
when all seemed,
if not all together, gained
then, to be
but now
we sink simultaneously
scarred
scared
somber
and solemn…
a sacred vulnerability of pain shared for the weight of its implication
not just upon us
but also upon our loved ones
and to the world…who cares?
and to our families…who else would care?
and to us…why should we care any longer?
because this is too heavy to feel alone
even saved almost,
by the company of symbiotic or Siamese misery
sitting in silence
breaking it’s cloud over our fears and pains
with awkward jokes to lighten our disposition
all the while,
never mentioning the full extent of what’s being felt
because big boys don’t cry
alone,
nor
together
…
enough said
Sleepless
hurt
shame
embarrassed
guilt
lonely
hurt
suffering
voided
hollowed
angry
crowded
overwhelmed
fallen
I’m just too miserable to sleep right now!
I Need a Coat
creating ties to a tie
only makes a knot
so, ‘to be or not..’
is not!
nor will it be, again
and all though the knot wins
at least I’m not tied up…
bunched messes aren’t my thing
but kinda “my” thing
I’m a bunched up mess
OneMess becoming my Oneness
but cutting ties is overrated
because its still so cold out here
freedom, isn’t warm
its frigid!
where’s my..?