There are days when all I feel
Is to get out of my body
And stand outside of me in silent
OBSERVATION
of this tragically beautiful, broken being that is myself
And yet,
Like a stay of execution,
The weight of hope weighs down on my soul
and stays my hand
Hope steers my head clear off thoughts
On how peaceful eternal silence would be
My free spirit strains at the chains this world binds her up with
I feel my free spirit choke on a pain
much more intense than the agonies borne by a woman in labour
My skin,
Is another oppressor in this playbook
She holds me by the scruff of the neck
And pulls me back into helplessness
I look around into the faces of many
that I, time and again, stood behind
They watch me from the corners of eyes
Mock pitying but condemning my soul
into eternal damnation
I send a strongly veiled:
‘Hello, how are you?’
in hopes someone would read between the lines
But no,
Nobody really cares
I turn to the last strains of happiness
Floating around in my beserk mind
but they are worth nothing but straw in this swiftly churning current
that sucks and carries without
Everything that stood once proud, beautiful, unbroken and full of life
But then I ask my mind to hold still
Just for a moment
Tell my body to fight back
For I am a mountain
Strong and immovable
And when tomorrow comes
Here I will stand
Whole and unbroken again.