Here’s what I know…
Sometimes I’m mad at you because
We don’t know who we are
Or where we come from
And who’s fault is that
I was five years old when
Shook the city,
voices rose up
for justice, for equality
Only a few miles away
And yet I never knew
You wanted us to be proud
Of who we were/are
But we knew nothing of those people
We didn’t know
East L.A. to the Valley
Might as well have been different planets.
I had a voice I could have used
I wasted and lost.
So yes, sometimes I’m mad at you
I feel ignorant
I didn’t recognize mi familia,
ALL the beautiful textures and colors.
I had a voice before I became afraid to use it.
I didn’t see those people are me.
Here I am fifty years
after La Raza,
Finding my voice
In the borderlands
Once again the people
Against the inhumanity
Seen by those who see
I will always live
On a wall
Of two worlds
I carry two worlds in my heart
And the only way for me
To know my story
Is to know their story
You’ve been gone a long time now
Crossed a different border
One I too will cross
I’ll sit on this wall
In the borderland
Of my own life
Breathe in the rust earth
The earth of my ancestors
I listen for their whispers in the wind
Their prayers in the rumbling thunder
Unless you listen with your heart
The rain falls gently outside the barred window.
The whoosh of a car on a wet road.
I am snuggled in bed, the dogs at my feet,
And I wait for the storm approaching.
One that will join the storm raging
In this room
In my mind
These days it’s difficult to leave the house
To feel the yellow sun
Or the breath of mother earth
across my skin
The storm is coming but for now
The way I like it.
Only the voice in my head most days
Drowning out the ones I run from
I watch the world go by through barred windows
Am i keeping the boogeyman out
Or keeping the boogeyman in
I am snuggled in bed, the dogs at my feet
As the rain falls gently outside the barred window.
I’m falling slipping, dripping, caught in a riptide, a sink hole. A whirlpool; an Ekman Spiral. I level my gaze on a horizon that sways. Your pain. My pain. A silent tug of war.
The hallway outside the apartment smells like onions and garlic. For the moment I feel excitement. Inside, it’s quiet. Only empty bottles and dirty dishes. A note: sorry I missed you. You know how it is. Hope you don’t mind… The acrid smell of a spent cigarette at the bottom of a glass. A small dandelion dangling on the edge of an empty beer bottle. So fragile. Too many wishes that don’t come true. I leave; walk, anywhere.
Day 10: Most days, i’m no sure what I’m doing. I’ve run away so many times–not physically but mentally–that i wonder if I’m dead or alive. Is it all a dream? Will I wake up in a different reality? These thoughts never did anyone any good. My cell rings. It’s my boss. I’m late. Again. I get a large coffee with a shot to keep away what chases me…
#Whiskey+Moonlight©️2019 #fiction # poetry #prose #KWtwitterstory2019