Sorrow The day got rough seemingly out of nowhere. Tension is creeping at the edges of my brain, kneading on my skull like a desperate kitty. Needing affection like I need comfort now that the wind is the only other sound beyond my clicking on a keyboard. It whirls about recklessly, slinging heavy tree branches and litter in its direction before flinging them back to beyond.
Freedom I see brick. Red and brown switching abruptly to dark black that reminds me of a rocky shore, then bright blue that is supposed to tell stories of joy and accomplishment — but really it’s giving displacement. It’s so disjointed, these pieces of the past clashing up against an alternate reality where freedom is a buzzword and a people lose their homes and dignity to alternate living.
Love I am wearing the day right in the center of my face where the tears tickle and sting before breaking the floodgates. I am heavy with fatigue borne of what, I cannot find in the space to which I am confined. I am here. I am steady in my self. breathing. living. honoring. Loving in the middle of the sheets and out in the open. In honest words not forgotten in heated moments. Out of sorrow, through pain, and into the waters.
Retribution Now I hear the birds. I see the darkening clouds welcoming rain, soft at first then harsh and bloody. When the streets are bathed and empty, I will perhaps feel better and venture outside my front door. With a mask covering my mouth, given me a sense of anonymity I have craved for a decade at least. To be seen is remarkable when one is truly seen. Objects, for what they’re really worth, feel nothing from your greedy, piercing gazes.
An ode to Beyoncé and Lemonade (2016)