Say Something
/Say something that matters to me, to all of us.
Oaks turn green-gold and suburban maples begin to singe. Yesterday's rain drove through the night and continues unto a darker dawn. The elixir of rain, acorns, leaves and earth grabs me by the back of the neck when I open the door for the first time today. October arrives.
Grotesque white men in their anger and power leave indelible strangle marks around my throat. I watch those men writhe in the same way the school children did on the coast of Kenya when the demons were excised by the village elders. They pound and flail, spit and curse. Their indignant sputters reveal the blindness that has taken up residence. Blessed be the peacemakers, but where the fuck are they? Mine might be missing.
October's soup and apples by the bushel. I watch the creek push fallen leaves into frog-homes and over rock-cliffs. It overflows in this rain but we're all used to that by now. Soon enough it won't be rain and soon enough we won't feel at all comfortable with the way things are.
Did you hear her voice describe what she can never forget? They laughed at her. I vomited. Did you actually hear her? Not ALL white people, not ALL men, not ALL Americans, right? Baby and bathwater and all that...I'm running out of ways to keep violence at bay. Pretty soon I'll just be running.
The sedum in the garden lie flat under all their purple weight. One last rose bloom surprised the deadening of summer. How soft yellow can be! How pure in its reason for living! Sweatshirts, jeans and jackets. And all my pretty scarves. The beauty of October snaps open the breastplate like celery. My color leaks.
Say something that matters to all of us; would you?