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