I can open my mouth
And say nothing
Of consequence
And somehow
It says everything
To those who make
Snap assumptions
Presumptions
Decisions
About my life
And it's lack
Of afflictions.
My voice says
It is from one place
While my body and soul
Are from another
Entirely different
Juxtaposed
Diagonally
Intersected
Across the lines
And hiding in
A cave or forest
Place I perpetually
Exist and belong in.
It says I have more
Of,
While I struggle
With less than
Time
and
Time
And Unspoken
Time again.
My voice says
Cultured like a pearl
My soul has been
Through the seven
Rings of someones'
Rougher
Tougher
Hell.
My voice does
Not belong to me.
I borrowed it
From someone
Else who lived a different
Life, free from strife
Who is sitting in
Some ivory attic
Of an venerable
Institution
Somewhere utterly
Static
While I move
And drift
Across states
Of distress and
Sorrow,
Crossing county
Lines in a forever
Safe somewhere
Far away
Tomorrow.
I have a cuckoo soul
It doesn't dare ask
For whom this bell
Or that ringtone
Tolls.
I have a hermit crab
Self
Throwing a voice
From a place I escaped
Long ago
Echoing seductively
Across the winding
Ocean, driving
People to
Painfully
Wrong
Conclusions.
I look in the mirror
And see so much
Less than.
Will I throw myself
Upon the transforming
Tide
I have ridden and I
Will ride
Until I finally
Manage to
Outrun
What others
Think
of
me.
Snap judgement
Pocket and
Pidgeon
Hole
Me.
Perhaps I will
Stop talking
Perhaps I will
Stop talking
Perhaps
I
Will
Stop
Talking
I wont…but, small caveat, sometimes i have to blow off steam: comments and presumptions about me because of my voice, the only voice I have, really upset me. People want to guess where and why and how. People make assumptions about who and what I am, and the privilege I have, when I have lived an adult and juvenile life full of hardship, torture, abuse, poverty and homelessness. They declare me “NOT AMERICAN” when that is both not how I see myself, I am a patriot, an American, I live here and I love here. Here is my safety. It really makes me want to never open my mouth again.
Painful but beautiful words. You have such talent as a poet and writer, Detroit. Your words stay vividly in my mind and I think of you even though I might not be obviously present. Don’t stop writing – please. Writing is so cathartic and, if it’s not too late to be healed, it can be healing too. Take good care of yourself and your young one. Ellie xx 💗
Dear Ellie, I will never heal. I might one day learn to live with the damage better than I do now, but healing is impossible. I will continue writing, but I really do have to take a few days here and there right now after I ended up in the ER with a suspected heart attack that turned out to be pretty severe costochondritis and high blood pressure.
It is always strange to hear that people enjoy my writing. I don’t write to be read – I tried that and it didn’t work. It only works when I write like no one is watching. I hope at least I can comfort, or educate, or enliven someone’s day, at least get them thinking about the world we live in. I was involved in the Write To Change The World workshop and am continuing my links with the Op Ed Project, hopefully. Let’s see what I can do!
Searing, powerful, clever, original, authentic writing. Don’t stop! xx
I wont…but, small caveat, sometimes i have to blow off steam: comments and presumptions about me because of my voice, the only voice I have, really upset me. People want to guess where and why and how. People make assumptions about who and what I am, and the privilege I have, when I have lived an adult and juvenile life full of hardship, torture, abuse, poverty and homelessness. They declare me “NOT AMERICAN” when that is both not how I see myself, I am a patriot, an American, I live here and I love here. Here is my safety. It really makes me want to never open my mouth again.
Assumptions are one thing, judgments based on those assumptions quite something else. I get how frustrating (and undermining) that must be. xxx
..yes…and dangerous. I really need to chill out a bit. I have done way way too much the past few days and am back to square one with the chest pain
A personal verse that has common emotions to many…brilliant write!
I hope you never stop speaking your important truths, my friend! Im sorry I am a little quiet, I have not been at all well.
Painful but beautiful words. You have such talent as a poet and writer, Detroit. Your words stay vividly in my mind and I think of you even though I might not be obviously present. Don’t stop writing – please. Writing is so cathartic and, if it’s not too late to be healed, it can be healing too. Take good care of yourself and your young one. Ellie xx 💗
Dear Ellie, I will never heal. I might one day learn to live with the damage better than I do now, but healing is impossible. I will continue writing, but I really do have to take a few days here and there right now after I ended up in the ER with a suspected heart attack that turned out to be pretty severe costochondritis and high blood pressure.
It is always strange to hear that people enjoy my writing. I don’t write to be read – I tried that and it didn’t work. It only works when I write like no one is watching. I hope at least I can comfort, or educate, or enliven someone’s day, at least get them thinking about the world we live in. I was involved in the Write To Change The World workshop and am continuing my links with the Op Ed Project, hopefully. Let’s see what I can do!