Start slow,
and let the muscles
take their time.
Deep in your mind,
you know
the ways
of the ancestors.
Come to the front,
not because you want to fight,
but because you want to hear
the end
of the soul screaming,
suffering inside of you.
It has to end
sometime,
unless you keep
finding new ways
to hurt yourself.
Isn’t it tragic,
the way you wait
to climb those stairs,
every day,
just because you hope
someone will see you fall?
Staring up at the bottom, again.
Lift you up,
and there’s always
some kind
of new wound on you.
You say,
you know
what it’s like to be abused,
but when you look down
at your hands
the blood is on you.
No wonder
you look
so confused.
When we selectively decide
to follow the rules,
and shame others
in place
for their views.
So sick and tired
of riding
the wave of the truth.
Start slow,
and live.
You’re not even
what you imagined.
You’re something else,
something more;
you’re living proof.
HG – 2021
