Where are the politicians on the sidewalk waving for votes come September? Where is your favorite rapper, you know the one with the 8 million followers on social media who uses their platform to sell complacency, zombie behavior, loose asses and 3k t-shirts? Where are the “good” cops? You know, the ones who don’t condone the racist behavior of their colleague. Where are the people who scream “I’m not racist, my cousin’s boyfriend is black”?
And while Im asking where…
Why don’t we cringe whenever we hear or read “college bound” before “unarmed”? Why does that qualifier even exist? Why is there always a mother on TV screaming and crying because the life she carried in her womb for almost 10 months was snatched away from her? Why do children have to ask “how will I know a good cop from a bad one”?
Why does Ferguson have to happen before the people can sympathize with Palestine?
And since we’re already here…
What will it take for people to realize they have a right to protect themselves and their families, regardless of skin color? What will happen when one fed up soul shoots back? What will become of the wife with no husband, the child with no father? What will our collective society do when the dead faces are no longer exclusively brown? What will mothers have to warn their children about when the streets are filled with vigilantes and militias?
Who will be the “devil” to strike the first blow? And who will be the “hero”? Who will save us from ourselves?
When will we realize… no one is coming."
You know the one thing I’ve learned about yearning for moments past? It’s exhausting. Exhausting emotionally, psychologically, and sometimes physically. And yet, we do it anyway. Why? Like the old adage of getting willfully burned by fire repeatedly, we continue the habit of wanting that old thing back.
At some point we are faced with the decision to continue in our self absorbed quest for satisfaction and validation of our utopian beliefs or… we just say fuck it and keep it moving. See you were bigger than my ideas and so much more than just a man. You represented an ideal that I thought was fairytale and folklore. You were strong. And brave. And love. And despite all that I know now, I would still fly the skies in search of you and what was.
What a feeling to be awakened! All the senses alive because of the existence of another flawed human being. A sensation so addicting and so arousing, that you’re willing to risk it all, covet, and lay waste to all that you thought was forever. Even the greatest thinker, philosopher, and poet would be a fool to deny what was seen and felt and cherished by and between us. What we had was inspiring! It was palpable. Strangers stopped and stared at the two betrothed fools in love who had only just met moments before. Isn’t THAT what its all about? Chemistry that bubbles like the baking soda and vinegar you pour down a clogged drain.
Perhaps that’s what hurts most. Realizing that the ideal I thought true was nothing but a mortal. A man afraid of his own greatness. Ashamed of his flaws. Ignorant to his power. All more of a reflection of my self than of you. It was my fear that caused this. My ignorance of the ways of polyamory and jealousy and….the fact that I just couldn’t deal with the constant climate change. The longing one day so strong that your penetration of mind and body traversed land and sea. To the frigid nature of your tone and infamous cynicism. You left me tongue tied and open only to find my self left to pick up the pieces of another broken heart. A heart that was given to you the moment hands touched innocently at the fear of landing. Maybe I should have seen the foreshadowing…me being afraid, reaching to you for comfort.
None of this is an excuse or an attempt to pull at your cold ass heart strings. In today’s world, both biblical and secular…our love, and yes I meant love, was forbidden and therefore wrong. But this naive girl saw love and nothing else. Wanted nothing else. Requires nothing else. Just the mind that stroked mine delicately. The voice that soothed an aching soul. The companionship that filled an ever growing void. And the love that I know still exists…past and present.
Sickness and nostalgia be damned."
Nostalgia Pt. III