see there? it just

sits. . . watches. . . crouches

. . . ready to

STRIKE, . . . but

. . . not just. . . yet. . .

it knows me. . . better than i know. . . .

MYSELF. . . yet

. . . somehow. . . must be a way. . .

somebody please. . . show me the

WAY. . . yeah, they say it's simple. . .

but i know for a fact,  that

unlike rivers of tears it ain't. . . EASY. . . so can you

show me. . . just show me

ANYTHING. . .

that will help me want to . . .

FORGET. . . about death. . .

for still this stark truth

SLAPS me. . .in the face,. . .

--and that fact is simply this:

i will always. . . ALWAYS

always. . . wrestle with

the roots of my own inadequacies. . .

the nucleus of my ancestry. . .

the blackness that will always

DEFINE me as less. . . regardless

of how i look, or talk. . .or dress. . .

UNLESS. . . somehow. . . you

are able to see behind my eyes,

and wonder why my tears got tired,

gave my ducts a rest because

as long as there is

DISTRESS in this world,

my eyes will see no glory

 

© 2005 cynth’ya lewis reed

all rights reserv'd
 

 
  
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