NINE
U9-P3
This movement feels strange. There is not a bit of quietude or stillness to be found in the air. Some spirits are restless.
I thought the truth was loud. But inconclusiveness is even louder. Neither is peace.
May God deliver us from the gray. May I hold my tongue until that time. May the consequences be light for all those who choose to speak.
U9-P5
A thief of joy has come singing in the night. And I can’t find the full moon. But I can hear the blood-curdling dissonance between expectations that box and feelings that spiral. Might I know imagination when the sun rises.
U9-P7
Am I speaking an indecipherable language or is it simply too much to accept that shaming D’evil implicates us all in the violence we have enacted trying to sustain the absence? I have not been silent for ten years or twenty-eight. That’s just a lie I tell myself to justify being unheard. I have learned to speak in other languages not out loud since my out-loud was never quite loud enough. And then I was told to forgive myself for speaking in languages that everyone doesn’t understand. And multiple times I have heard “Speak up.” I don’t know how much louder I can get. And everyday I’m still saying “I forgive you” to myself.
It ain’t all me. And maybe we can call this shifting blame but it ain’t all me.
When they gon forgive themselves for not hearing?
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I dreamed of my child who I spit out but could not love. Staring back at my own face and feeling only hate. The others were proud of her smart mind so I hated her less.