When the shadows whispered

into my attic

where I crouched

intimidated

tangled in blankets

It was hot, unbearably so,

Cigarette clouds

bitter beer

touching secrets

too gruesomely laden

with murderous promises

that must never claim

foothold in the light.

There comes a time

when we must face

the truth of humanity

The very fact

that we are genetic.

A time of reckoning

when we weigh inherited sins

on the scales of forgiveness

or justice

or romanticized versions

of an unrequited faith in love

a prayer whispered

to a god who refused haven

Petulant children are they,
Standing with guilty bloodied hands;
rebellious unrepentant faces
They erase the voices that speak the loudest truth;
Quick with the silencer of shame and shunning
and criminalization of a hard days wages.
Why are we not outraged to rebellion?
Why are we not lifting one another up
from dingy gutters where the “alternative facts”
of community are flayed open in overgrown lots
Replete with corruption of vision
We are being groomed

They are attempting to groom us
to subjugate the souls most feared
because our deepest generational trauma
is a heritage tortured into our provisional roots
reflected into a certain confirmed self-loathing
evident as puddled grief in a widow’s lamentation

The days are striding through spring

stepping clumsily through the temperatures

Dawn ascends brighter each breath

and languishes nightly in preparation

for the augmented hefts of summer sun.

The length of her inspirations dwindle

Seasons ahead of schedule.

She burrows deep under fleece-y blankets

shivering in the warmth of herald’s sun.

Her days grow fewer; enhanced silence.

Winter white she dissolves into the depths

The ombre of accepted death

“Dude, did it occur to you that you’re the only one who knows, for better or worse, everything you’ve ever thought or done? Other people only see what they want to.”

Even the darkest recesses are mine

Cracks, cuts, scars;

the bloodied spirit,

the blistering skin

with a strength and power

that continues strumming the chords of life

with distinction against the omnipresent breath

of the extraordinary or wretched depths of humanity

A central pinnacle of impassioned visionaries

As the murk of the world alights.

It is incongruous with the vision

of love and compassion

There is no home for clemency

while being force-fed antiquated beliefs

in systems used to afflict, oppress,

and suppress our brethren;

ourselves.

The systematic elimination

of our individual humanity

collectively erodes our sense of security.

The world is no longer unmolested.

Apprehensive,

encouraged to be paranoid of one another,

we attempt to find a balance.

We’re not meant to.

It is a violation of the power dynamic

Unity is the only recourse.

Shoulder to shoulder

deconstructing the industrial

slave trade one tyranny at a time

Refusing less than our significance

our value

our basic human needs being met.

Where once there was a sense of peace

wrapped in your arms

quiet of the world

enamored with your kiss

your touch

your skin against my lingering fingers

now there is only a comfort

A visceral sense of being who

I have longed to be since before you existed

Oh, how I loved him.

I wrote poems of my love for him.

I made art in testament to my devotion.

I honored him to the best of my ability

Until I just couldn’t do it any longer.

Blank looks

Or no response

Or “It’s good. I like it.”

No matter what I did.

Never more.

At times, I would yell or scream

Desperate for ANY reaction.

Stonewalled.

But, oh, how I loved him.

I believed that if I loved him

(As he couldn’t through mine)

Through his obvious depression

Eventually, the man I loved so dearly,

Would return.

If…

I just loved him for a little longer,

A little harder, a little bit stronger,

The man who gave me the stars

(He really did name a star for me),

I would experience the intimate devotion

That I adored when he loved me back.

I loved him with everything I knew

And, for him, it was not enough.

I was too much for him.

I was not enough for him.

I was not worth the effort.

I was too much effort.

But, after I had come from the darkest place I’d ever been,

Love from him was blatantly and obviously absent.

While I had his love near my heart,

I loved him with all my being.

I can forgive myself for believing

In the love I KNOW we shared.

Oh, how deeply I loved him.

Chores are individual securities.
Reassurance that things will continue.
A reality that has deep roots
in muscle memory handed down
manifesting in an intimate bonding
A celebration as I breathe life
into the rituals that begin
again
Moving the earth to fold back on herself.
I am witness to countless mothers,
ancient men, toddlers, teens, humans
as they use their muscle memories
filtered through respective traumas,
erupting learning epiphanies
resurrected
as I sweep, wash, fold, bend, dust,
stash away tomorrows witnesses
of todays contribution of
folding the earth back on her holy self