I’m not a poet, but I’ve wanted to post a poem for a while.
I think there’s something so powerful about both the potency and ambiguity of
words contained in poems. I’m straddling the edge of insecurity, but something
internal begs me to write a poem. A voice.
Brown faces tattered thin
Not from starvation or malnutrition
Tattered from dulling days, purposeless hours
Tattered from voices, unbearable, overpowering their own
Mouths sealed shut by unprincipled hands
Noses singed with the scent of injustice
Ears deafened by drones of guns, grenades, violence
Eyes blinded by the brightest sun, affording external light
to cover internal havoc
Minds halted by expectations of mediocrity, expectations
resulting in
Murmurs of pawns.
Browns faces brightened
From questions and concepts
Brightened from maximizing minutes, converting hours
Brightened from voices, birthing, uncovering their own
Mouths asked to speak by inquiring peers
Noses tempted by the scent of seeking what is just
Ears perked by the drones one and two and three and hundreds
connecting
Eyes unveiling the true travesties, offering light to the
inexplicable story
Minds rupturing because they can, because they have always
wanted to, always been able to. Minds rapturing resulting in
A voice of Change.
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