my self : the muse

Where

where are you going

and why

the rush

when it’s all over

and that is gone

your only legacy –

that;

what do you know

that the rain doesn’t

sliding down the window

as it will

Born Pale

[I can’t remember when I wrote this – found it in Google Docs – but I’m guessing in 2011/12]

Born Pale

born pale

and taught

to be white

afraid

of shades

and difference

but then

consciousness

rising into life

uncovers

hidden shame

guilt overwhelming

fear

defenseless

and unknown

attacking

in the darkness of misunderstanding hatred grows; not for the other, but for the self – invisible and unfeeling, innocence is stolen, replaced with contempt – we learn just enough to dance between separation and indignation; using the words of concilliation, while standing at a safe distance – from them, from us, from love, from recognizing what is one in all – afraid to close the gap, afraid to heal, afraid to touch black to white, red to brown, to white, to whiteness, to indifference, to misunderstanding, to life

so the suffering

goes on

and you raise yours

as I raise mine

another generation

lost to will

City Limits

We hide¬†ourselves –

a world of

incandescence –

afraid

we might find

mirrored back –

silent flickering

steady brilliance –

our true face –

we can’t bear to see –

the night sky

our city limits.

8/13/15

Gone Again

If I ever was,

I was –

then gone again.

8/13/15

We Lost Less

Somewhere we lost

that doing well

could be doing, well –

less

than could be done;

and somewhere we found

that doing every more

could make us feel, well –

more

than we were before;

but only just,

for

more for more

leaves less-

and less for more

leaves us –

wishing we did

what we’d done before.

8/11/15