Audre, I'm Tired

of pulling my punches
of forcing words into and out of spaces
dull contortionists
breaking themselves
pieces of a puzzle
I can never make fit the vision of the world
I'd like to see.

Audre, I'm tired
of pushing 'cause this baby won't come
they said, if I chose to have it
I'd have it alone
but have you ever seen a child cut along party lines
scarred by ideology
the fascists pull one arm
the liars pull the other
and everyone else sits laughing
clapping nervously while
eyeing the emergency exit doors.

Audre, I'm tired
and my body fears these memories
I can no longer carry or afford
to leave at their feet.

I wish you would
Take these
Arms from me
that hang by my sides
lynched by regretful tendancies
ache for that which I tried too hard to hold
leaving in this wake
broken hands still foolishly
addictively opening.
As if love (alone) could fix this ruptured world
as if it meant
(giving) anything less
than everything.


*Some people find religion to be a source of refuge. Others take salvation in different ways and words. I find myself running always to poetry as my preferred refuge and opportunity to converse with those I admire over all of those "unspeakable" things and ways of being.
I often feel that reading is its own critical space and I read poets searching to hear them speak, muse and critique this world. I'm currently reading Audre Lorde's The Black Unicorn which inspired me to write this yesterday at 5 a.m.

peace!


"if I believe in you, will you believe in me?
but I have no trust in anything
somehow I always end up falling over me"--VNV Nation "Holding On"