By Karen Estrella
After Joshua Bennett
“Say it” you command
sing it
and yet
I seem to have lost my voice
I seem to have lost
The very thread
That I wrapped around my finger
So that I wouldn’t forget
That I am beautiful
That you are worthy
Of trust
The very thread
That runs through my
Story
What is my story?
Make it
You say
Take it
You say
Trust the process
You say
And yet
Trust
is a word
that sounds so trite
in my ears
I cannot even trust
What I hear
From inside my own heart
Oh, and I am deaf too
My ear drums
Have been silenced
The ramparts red glare
The bombs bursting in air
Have seemed to burst those
Drums in my ears
I cannot find myself
In the American dream
I have become a zombie
The night of the living dead
Has become my default station
My waylay
My way
stay
Maybe there are drums
That can talk to my soul
That can wake up my heart
Voodoo drums
Like those that
Frankie sang about
Do do that voodoo
That you do so well
Do something to me
Make me
Wake me
Shake me
What will it
take me
To revive
To revise
This script
I can’t seem to
stray from
I can’t seem to
Unbind myself
Undo myself
From this mistrust
This mistake
I’ve staked my heart upon
This misappropriation of funds
I have mislaid
I am spent
Too tired
I am tired
Of trying
Of living
This dream
That promised me
The pursuit of happiness
I seem only to have
Been given the pursuit
I have been hunted down
By my ghosts
I have been
Held up
By my kin folk
They sit there
With their accusing finger
Pointed
at my heart
You are not
Entitled
To an endless supply
You are not
Entitled
To the right
To speak your mind
You are not
Entitled
To a voice
That speaks American
You are not
Entitled
To spend your trust
On something
You cannot name
You cannot speak
You cannot keep
Making
Something
Out of nothing
Make it
You say
Take it
You say
Trust the process
You say
And yet
Trust
is a word
that sounds so trite
in my ears
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