Some things exist behind curtains of experience.
Those whose tongues have
tasted the holy fire know the touch
of something divine.
Those who have laid eyes on
their sleeping bodies, and walked
away to places unknown, can grasp
the idea of an inbetween.
Those who have groped in the darkness
for something to believe in again, who
have longingly looked over the cliff edge,
know that true despair does exist.
As for me,
I know that true fear can
come in the form of footsteps
behind you on the empty street.
The person at the bar who insists on
hollow compliments and free drinks.
Friends who scoff at your anger for
men who yell out their passenger side
windows about the treasures beneath
your clothes.
True fear can come in the middle
of the afternoon, as you face
off against the four floor staircase
to your apartment, when your steps
are echoed by the man in 2b who has
a wife, son, and a taste for resistance.
Don't tell me I'm overreacting,
when the single most terrifying thing
I can do is walk alone under the street lamps.
Don't tell me I'm too uptight just
because I've learned that flattery
can come with a horrifying price tag.
Don't tell me I'm wrong just
because you don't understand.
Look me in the eye when you have
waited until a security guard can walk you
to your car. When you have held your
breath in a shared elevator. When you have
lowered your eyes to the men who yell
obscenities at you, because standing up
for yourself could prove deadly.
Look me in the eye when you have held back
the curtain of experience, and walked in the shoes
of someone who lives every moment knowing
this could be the day someone decides to steal
from me what is only mine to give.
Then look me in the eye when you tell
someone of your wound, and they reprimand
you for daring to walk this world as a woman.
Not actually in love with this. But I've been putting off writing for far too long, and everyone always says that if you are in a rut, the best thing to do is write until you feel inspired again. So here we go.
