Each day I sing and perform I count as victory over blatant favoritism and over all a system built to fail us.
Something
setup to remind us we are other. Wrong. Ugly. So much that we have to
fight to learn a history hidden. And love how we are made while
everything around us screams change. Straighten your hair. We tan you
bleach....She was a warm brown. Blue undertones.
I remember her.
She
sang to me. Her favorite thing was to make me sing along to the Reading
Rainbow theme song when I was little. When she was still here.
Her
absence hangs over me like an overcast sky. Pushing my feet down harder
with every step. The coming rain is pressed to my temples and crowding
my mind. Making my knees buckle.
Crying
in the shower where no one can hear me but God. Father. Silent. Always
listening. Watching me slam into emotional walls, stand up and covered
in new scars. Where is she?
Forgiveness
is not for them. It is for you. That finally you might stop blaming
yourself as you see her face in the mirror. Stare at her picture and
memorize her smile frozen in sepia tones. Did she ever wish she could
turn to stone when people hurt her like me?
Did
she forgive my grandmother for saying it was her fault for being raped
at 13 and again in her 20's? I wish I could talk to her.
Instead I have questions. Emptiness. Missing pieces inside me.
Crooked
stitches connecting torn seams. Working out until I tore muscles in my
chest. Carried down stairs by paramedics. Sitting in an emergency room
looking like nothing was wrong with me.
Wondering
like you did, "If I left, would anybody care?" We are all forgettable
dust being cruel to each other with our quickly disappearing lives.
Eyes
overflowing. Ears ringing. Dizzy with panic every morning wondering how
I'll pay these bills with this many jobs that combined don't pay worth a
cent all by myself.
Up to my neck in this dark water.
Comments
Post a Comment