i tried to paint the picture

they shuddered

i needed them to see

they averted their eyes

i needed them to hear

they put their hands over their ears

they say they want to understand

but they can’t stay in the room

too much history

too much pain

too much fear

for them to hold the thought of me

broken but moving

left for dead but breathing

dismissed but still present

they can’t inspect the wounds

no prescription for my trauma

no room in their days

filled with ease to catalogue

how my life bleeds

they want clean hands

but blood is everywhere

they want to sleep at night

i have no resting place

must hit the marks

that move as i approach

they say they set a place

but I can’t find the table

i am here at the margin

looking for the opening in the conversation

that is large enough for all of me

i try to paint the picture

but some need their ease

more that justice

need the peace of mind

i have never had

to remain secure although

i have never been secure

they claim the right to be safe

which is code for the

absence of me

& my discomfort

 

“Your belief and my reality may be mutually exclusive.” _ A. Nzinga, Ticky. Ticky. Boom!

Art work by Thearthur Wright