How
can
I
do
this
again?
My bones are hollow glass,
the blood spills through my hands
and my tears
could
fill
an
ocean.
I
am
undone
and all I can do
is kneel
in
the
wreckage.
And how shall I ever forget those too-blue eyes?
They are seared into my memory
along with every look
you ever gave me.
Death
You are my truest
companion.
By now,
I should
be used to
that cold caress.
But
I
never
seem
to
be.
It becomes
like
the stripping
of layers,
as
one
by
one,
those
I love
die.
Until
at last
there
is
only
me.
Why is it that things you would never ever say to another human being are blasted all over the internet? Why are people being told to die, to kill themselves, horrible things? I blame the anonymity of the internet. There are no repercussions, no castigation, no punishment. One ISP might ban you, but there are millions more to be an utter monster on. I know people, lovely, sweet people, with children, that are so battered by trolls, their accounts are locked.
Harassed. Catcalled. Molested. Raped.
And I will not apologize for those things that were never my fault.
Never my desire.
I will not apologize for being attacked
and bruised
and violated.
And I will not wear your sack cloth and ashes as penance for being a woman.
I will rise like a phoenix from my brokenness,
I will wear my scars like gold tattoos
and
I will know that I am beautiful, stronger, better.
And that you could never break me.
Another lovely young black man, senselessly gunned down by people who are supposed to be protecting the populace. How could anyone think it was justified? His girlfriend and her four year old daughter were in the car. This is insane. Driving, walking, breathing while black should not be a killing offense. Parents should not have to be afraid for their children, wives for their husbands, every single day. This has got to stop. And if the officer is so afraid, then perhaps he/she doesn’t have the temperament to BE in law enforcement.
#Justice4Philando
I know that my loved ones are not truly dead, not just because I can feel them near, but because they dwell in the very heart and soul of the divine. Every bit of love they ever had is still there, but like coal under pressure, it has turned, with their passing, into something rare and strange. I do feel sometimes as if they’re all around me.
And perhaps, when we sleep, the starstuff of our souls ascends to the heart of the divine, to be with the starstuff of our loved ones.
And that’s what makes the stars twinkle at night.
