“Home” by Warsan Shire

The power of poetry; the power of words:

no one leaves home unless
home is the mouth of a shark
you only run for the border
when you see the whole city running as well

your neighbors running faster than you
breath bloody in their throats
the boy you went to school with
who kissed you dizzy behind the old tin factory
is holding a gun bigger than his body
you only leave home
when home won’t let you stay.

no one leaves home unless home chases you
fire under feet
hot blood in your belly
it’s not something you ever thought of doing
until the blade burnt threats into
your neck
and even then you carried the anthem under
your breath
only tearing up your passport in an airport toilets
sobbing as each mouthful of paper
made it clear that you wouldn’t be going back.

you have to understand,
that no one puts their children in a boat
unless the water is safer than the land
no one burns their palms
under trains
beneath carriages
no one spends days and nights in the stomach of a truck
feeding on newspaper unless the miles travelled
means something more than journey.
no one crawls under fences
no one wants to be beaten
pitied

no one chooses refugee camps
or strip searches where your
body is left aching
or prison,
because prison is safer
than a city of fire
and one prison guard
in the night
is better than a truckload
of men who look like your father
no one could take it
no one could stomach it
no one skin would be tough enough

the
go home blacks
refugees
dirty immigrants
asylum seekers
sucking our country dry
niggers with their hands out
they smell strange
savage
messed up their country and now they want
to mess ours up
how do the words
the dirty looks
roll off your backs
maybe because the blow is softer
than a limb torn off

or the words are more tender
than fourteen men between
your legs
or the insults are easier
to swallow
than rubble
than bone
than your child body
in pieces.
i want to go home,
but home is the mouth of a shark
home is the barrel of the gun
and no one would leave home
unless home chased you to the shore
unless home told you
to quicken your legs
leave your clothes behind
crawl through the desert
wade through the oceans
drown
save
be hunger
beg
forget pride
your survival is more important

no one leaves home until home is a sweaty voice in your ear
saying-
leave,
run away from me now
i dont know what i’ve become
but i know that anywhere
is safer than here

Muse

Alone in my head in the summer of 95,
I purchased a box to play the sounds of escape
in the rhythm of lyrics and passion.

Leaning on the moulding of my bedroom door,
gazing toward the bed of piled
unfolded laundry, screaming for more.

Sipping a newfound latte,
with Madonna in the tape deck,
as she had been for 12 damn years;
stories of longing landed.
---
I only mention this now,
as I realize this was the beginning of a me
beyond the bad that had swallowed the key.

Funny how we wallow in a song
we perceive as a wrong
done, rather than a life to come
in a wakening sun.

Until Recently

I live in North Carolina; and therefore, I am living under the new HB2 legislation (a.k.a. bathroom bill).

Over the last 7 or 8 months, since the popularity of Trump style bullying has gripped certain pockets of America, and this recent fear based legislation (I won't call it hate based, as I think this type of discrimination is based more on fear and ignorance than hate), the quality of my life has changed.

I love Sheetz. (Does everyone know what a Sheetz is? It's a gas station/convenience store/deli, super charged). I couldn't tell you why I love Sheetz, other than the fact that there are a lot of them around here, and so it's convenient -- hence the description, convenience store. Plus, I can have all of the free ice I want for my ice water addiction, all fountain drinks, no matter if I'm a little thirsty or a glutton, are 99¢, and I do like a hot dog now and then.  Most other people that are crowding the Sheetz are there for much of the same reasons, I suspect.  

Lately, I have had some experiences with some guys who look like they might be construction workers, or some sort of outside road crew workers. These particular guys I have had interactions with are, what I'd call, your white, young, lower middle class guys. My experience with these guys is that their values are, typically, conservative, but they are generally always polite, southern gentlemen, until recently.

Let me tell you a bit about me before I continue.  I am a middle aged female who is a bit on the heavy side. Okay. I’m heavy. Whatever! I haven't had a guy hit on me since my early thirties. For the record, I happen to be a lesbian --on the "butch" side-- so the "treat" of a guy's attention hasn't been missed.

I’ve only recently, in the last 15 years or so, become more comfortable in my skin, and am living a truer existence… in other words, I’m not as feminine as I used to be. At first glance, people mistake me for a sir, often, and I have sometimes gotten a second look by women going into the restroom, I guess because, if I'm only given a quick glance, I could be mistaken for a dude.  However, I have never been harassed, or treated with disrespect, until recently.

Within the last few months at Sheetz, one guy literally knocked into me, and whispered, "dyke" under his breath at me. Another time, I was holding the door for a guy, and he refused it. He walked right by me and said, "Nope," and opened the other door himself. A few weeks ago, a guy who is on the feminine side, went into the Sheetz, and was grabbing a cup to get a Slurpee (or the Sheetz equivalent), and was told by one of these guys, that "[he] needed to prance on out of there."

I don't blame Sheetz for this shift, but believe me when I say, there has been a shift, and this animosity is coming from people who are visibly fearful, and they feel they are warranted and clearly, in the right. Why? Because of laws like HB2, and leaders who "model" behaviors. These laws, and someone like Trump, instill fear, superiority, and aggressiveness in people. Each and every time it has happened to me or I've witnessed it, I feel shocked and surprised that this is happening.  

I knew this type of behavior existed.  I remember the treatment that my adopted mama, who happens to be black, received in public when we were out together. I remember the direction given to me by my white supervisors of a department store, to follow any black or brown person who entered the store.  I heartedly believe it was because of the laws that were on the books, and from the behavior of our leaders. It's disheartening.

My experience with this shift is not limited to the Sheetz with sweaty, dirty, white guys buying hot dogs and soda pop.

I am starting Law School in the fall, and as such, I need some professional attire. I have almost no money, so shopping is a bit stressful, as I try on a lot of things, and buy very little.  As I said, I am a bit of a butch. If I had my dithers, I wouldn't wear clothing specific for men or women, but that option doesn't exist, at least not within my budget.  My tastes in clothing are along the lines of Ellen DeGeneres, and of Glenn Close in the television series, Damages.  In order to get that look, I have to shop for some of my items in the men’s department. This is something I have done for the last 15 years or so, as I have gotten more comfortable in my own skin.  I have never, not once, had a problem, until recently.

One sales associate, an older African American woman, chased me across the store chanting, "Sir!" in a frantic, panicked voice.  I paid her no mind, as I didn't think she was "siring" me.  But after I got into the dressing room, and hung my items on the hook, there was a knock on the door. "Sir?"  I replied, "May I help you?" in my non sir voice, of course.  She recoiled, stating, "Oh ---- I just wanted to make sure you were in the correct dressing room. I hear that it appears you are."

In another store, a white, 30 something, female customer froze when I walked into the dressing room, obviously disturbed.  Within minutes, someone was knocking on the door asking, "I just wanted to check to see if someone is in here."  I answered, in my non sir voice again, and she walked away feeling assured that she was protecting people's rights, and that all of the social norms are going as they should.

Now, I know I'm not the only gender, non-confirming person who has been subject to this shift, because I see others going through it too. And I know that men that are not masculine enough have faced ridicule for a very long time.  And, I'm well aware that of all the marginalized folks, I am one of the last ones to become a part of this wave of ignorance that is sweeping America. People, all the way back to the 1882 Chinese Exclusion Act, have suffered great harm due to laws, ignorance, and leaders who guided the collective thought. Those who came to America who were not white, straight, and protestant, have suffered, tragically. And the slaves, OH MY GOD, the slaves...

I am merely another addition to the long list of folks "to be afraid of," and in turn, I am afraid.

With the rise in popularity of bills such as HB2, and the rise of the orange, scary, bully, Donald Trump, I am fearful of what is to become of the Country I love, which has overcome and grown so much over the last hundred years or so, albeit, slowly. Over the next 5 months, or longer if, God forbid, Trump wins -- it will all be for nothing. This growing animosity towards anyone who is not white, and a cis-male, will bring us back to a mentality of the early twentieth century—only worse—because we know better now, or should.

I hear people saying, "trust in the American people, and know Trump will not win." Trust in the American people? If only. I thought I could, until recently.

-->

October

Beneath the newly fallen night,
a baby cricket - lost in hope -
crawls inside a vacant wine bottle,
escaping, an unexpected frost.

Deteriorating Conditions

Swooping down, she pulled the sky
so high I could see tomorrow.

Giving me wind and a wing, and boy
did I fly!

Until, the sun set, the tailwind
crossed, the skies darkened.

She threw up mountainous thunderheads,
they cut like a shard of glass.

A howling chill cast, from the walls she
shattered in an un-forecasted storm.

The heavy blanket shot
over my heart won't warm the chill,

until the sun rises.

Spinning

The earth spins on its axis at a rate of about 1000 mph, making a full rotation in 24 hours.
Simultaneously, the earth is orbiting around the sun at about 67,000 mph at the rate of about once every 365 days.

While this is going on, the sun is being pulled around the center of our galaxy (dragging us along for the ride) moving at a speed of 5000 mph, taking approximately 250 million years to make one cycle around.

Our entire galaxy is circling around the universe at who knows what rate of speed... AND... who knows what the entire universe is circulating around???

Meanwhile the 7 billion people on our little spec of sand in the dark known as earth are fighting over which type of human is best, which ideals are best, who deserves which part of land... and how the rich and powerful can become more rich and powerful. We will shoot you, blow you up, torture you, and make you suffer, all in the name of power. Human beings are some kind of arrogant special....

Effin get over it and let's figure this sh!t out!!!!!!!!
‪
#‎Perspective‬

Consumed

Cheers! -- to the good life
that would kill her in a 
shot; glass ceiling 
above dreams 
shattered once
she found the courage
to empty her cup. 

In Time

Rituals of days passed, only mask
each day to the next, the taste
swallowed with the bitterness mellowed
for weeks in a routine seeking madness...

Until you walked through my door.

Reflections

Today at dawn
I saw an old friend

who was even more beautiful
than I remembered--

I should have looked in the mirror
long before now.

Skating Through the Holy Roller Rink

I made a few changes...


the pipe organ pulses
through the pews
on a rainy sunday,
hands raised in praise--

the preacher preaches
in his slicked back hair
sure as the devil
he's got somethin' special--

baptized as a baptist
dunking sins away
just like a slam dunk win
at the end--

no oscar for this actress
portraying not adam nor eve
somethin' kinda in between
at the ripe old age of nineteen--

she knew not a single thing
except to live in sin
in the closet hung with clothes
waiting to transpose--

the white double doors
outside the wood framed church
with stained glass windows,
forever in the shadows

of the old life biographer
writing a new history;
where the girl living in transition
finally, embraces religion

Skating Through the Holy Roller Rink

the pipe organ pulses
through the pews
on a rainy sunday,
hands raised in praise--

the preacher preaches
in his slicked back hair
sure as the devil
he's got somethin' special--

baptized as a baptist
dunking sins away
just like a slam dunk win
at the end--

no oscar for this actress
portraying not adam nor eve
somethin' kinda in between
at the ripe old age of nineteen--

she knew not a single thing
except to live in sin
in a closet full of clothes
waiting to transpose--

the white double doors
outside the wood framed church
with stained glass windows
forever in the shadows

of a new dream
for a new world
where the girl living in transition
finally, embraces religion

Three Strikes

the glass fills higher
while the bottle empties.
she becomes a liar--

the temps fall to the twenties.
my clock ticks louder;
the snores come sooner.

I've never been a doubter
but today, is so much closer
to the day after tomorrow.

Where I write

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

With a little help from my friends

I posed the question on Facebook if friends would give me a word, a thought, or a feeling that I could form into a poem.  These are responses I received: 

- If you look far enough you will see???

-The world wrapped around you.. if you listen long enough??

-If you could keep only one memory...

-Moving out of my nest of safety into the terrifying realm of the unknown known...

I decided to write a Haiku poem (a Japanese poem), using bits and pieces of their words.

 realm of the unknown

The world wraps her arms

Around the memory of

Loves left in the wake

Hunch

If I built a bench,
Little by little
Beyond the middle
Of normal;

Would you rest with me?

Polysemous

Being near her,
Makes a shot of liquor
Uncalled for....

Adapt

Is this dizziness I feel
Caused by that shot of liquor
Chased by that lager
I drank?
Or, is it from
That door revolving
That swung this way
Instead of that...perhaps?

Deteriorating Conditions

the clouds hanging
low, their blanket of regret
embracing me.
they are thick but dry,
blocking the light
leaving all in its wake
dark and cold.
in straits, I shiver
allowing the darkness
to swallow me

whole.

Pleading

Dear Mind, or something sounding similar:
I'm writing to say you must stop
NOW!  With care I carry this Message Love;
Go Gently--Hence, thoughts such as these will lead
to sleeplessness, as you may already have 
noticed?  Not only that, that extra drink
ain't your shrink!  Yea, it makes you cry,
and long, leading to horniness; untouched.
The alternative is a slow death, BUT!
Alas--a sweet stroll it shall be.

in  sanity, I plead with love...  forevermore!

Wanting

Every once in awhile, a moment passes with a wish it hadn't;
Passed or came at all, I'm unsure-- 'cept to say
I know, it will never leave me...

                                                                          the same.