Compensation

Every time the door goes

Swinging,

Flying,

Bursting,

Flinging,

Open,

I imagine that I hear your footsteps

Either slowly or quickly

Closing the distance

To where I sit

Destitute and forlorn.

 

My heart quickens-

It must be you!

The voice that speaks-

It sounds like yours!

My mood begins to elevate-

 

Then it stops.

 

It’s not you.

You would have come to me by now.

The voice no longer sounds like yours.

The footsteps,

Foreign and strange.

 

So I content myself with a compensatory thought.

You’ll be back soon.

I know it.

I’ll just patiently wait a little longer.

A little longer.

A little longer.

Longer.

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The Charm

Silver and small

The way that light hits each link

Makes it appear

Like a lobster’s claw.

Attached,

Somehow,

Is a behemoth.

It stands.

Four legs.

A trunk.

A tail.

Its ears;

Perfectly large-

Trunk so happily lifted high,

It could shower water at any time.

The links it grasps-

A pair of hearts.

You can feel the love coming from them-

They link together.

Dear life they represent;

Small,

But they mean

So much

To the one

That holds them.

They are smooth.

They are harsh.

Love,

Is not

A

Smooth ride.

It Waits

It comes back no matter what room I’m in.

No matter how many times,

It comes back twice as tall.

It waits,

Waiting for me to go through it.

I’m dreading that it will remind me

That every

Single,

Lonely

Person

That comes into contact with it,

That it exists,

That they

Couldn’t

Care

Less

About me.

A Cry to the Nation

What I see when I look out on these streets is

Swarming moving masses like the hardworking ant or the busy bee

Ambitious, striving to a certain goal

Uncaring, compassionless lacking in soul

They pass by the begging mother, the destitute brother

With a singular focus that never diverts to another

“Other;” that’s who you are, who we are

“An”other of those who aren’t active in furthering their lives

They treat us like trash and then ask why on welfare we reside

It’s an endless cycle that we can’t escape from

But they act like they’ve given us the tools when they’ve given us none

They act like they’ve been helping, but they’ve only been disrespecting

They have plenty of resources to spare, but nobody is sharing

It’s a constant struggle to survive

When we could get farther by repairing

And understanding

And coming to a place of open-mindedness

But ain’t nobody getting there

Until we open our hearts and share a little kindness

Instead, we just keep dissin’ and excuse my French, bitchin’

Everyone want their voices to be heard, but no one ready to listen.

Why does everyone act like issues are black or white,

When in reality they are so many shades of gray.

Is this what happened to the respect that we supposedly founded our nation?

What happened to using words with the right connotation?

Why can’t we look at one another and agree

That we are all sisters and brethren,

Is it too hard to have that expectation?

And what happened to all those who call themselves Christians?

The ones claim that they are at the cripple’s bedside with Him?

The ones that say that they ate and cried with Him?

The ones who supposedly bled and died with Him?

Are they just content to see as did the Pharisee

And Roman spectator another man be

Picked up and slaughtered for just saying what he believed?

If we are a people called apart from all the nations

Then we need to be the first to take a stand

And show them all that the love of God

Still lives in beating hearts in this land.

Is God on my side?

I don’t know.

Is God on their side?

I don’t think so.

But I think that my God doesn’t want

Either side shooting more people.