Sometimes the ugliness
Is so vile
We question
If there can even
Be a God
Or something
Divine
When such
Evil hatred
Is allowed
To walk the
Earth…
& rape
Children
As if
To mock
God's
Very existence.
That in other
Countries young
Girls opening
Are sewn shut.
That just yesterday
A young woman
Behind the counter
Told me
That everyday
The customers
Abused her
Belittled her
& that now
She and her
Manager
Just accepted it.
I wept.
I wept because
They no longer
Believed in good people
And that I
Was the first person
Who had ever
Been kind
To them.
Hatred wasn't
Some gunman
It was a well to do
White woman
Who couldn't
Care less about
How she was treating
The young lady
Behind the counter,
Apathy was never
So ugly,
As living in
America
Where you have
The freedom
To abuse
& be abused
So long
As we all consent
To the madness.
But isn't that
True for us all?
Humanity?
At the core
We are all
Afraid of getting
What we want…
Afraid we don't
Deserve
What we want…
Afraid we will
Get it
Afraid we won't
Get it…
That is why
You have said
Every hateful thing
You've ever said
You've ever done
To me
To you
To anyone
You've classified
As “them”
Because you
Acted as a
Child full
Of terror
Wild
And scared
Half out of
Your wits…
It is only
If I can remember
This when you hit me
It is only
If I can remember
When you gossip
About me
It is only
If I can remember
That it is
Your terrified child
That is acting
Out this brutality
When you are
Raping me
That I can save
Us both.
If I can remember
That you just
Want to feel
Like you deserve
To be loved
That you are
Worthy
And that
No matter
What you have
Done,
To me,
To them,
To yourself,
Will I ever see you
As unworthy,
Of Love.
So whether
There is a God
Or something
Else,
There is Love,
The kind
That can reach
Across the Void
Of time
And space
Of virtual
Words in
Pixel
That so long
As I live
One person
Gives a %^&
And after
There is no
Breath
In my flesh
My poem
Will live
To remind you
At least one
Person had
Loved you,
And it
Was me.
Everyone wants
To feel loved
To know what it
Is like to honestly
Feel deserving
Of it,
And to believe
THAT in their
Heart of hearts.
And so long
As I can remind you
Of that
Then even after
I die…
You can do this
For someone
For me,
When there
Is no more
Left
But words
Called
Poetry.
