Skip to main content

Scout on Wasted Potential

Where does it go?

For years I sit and wonder where it has traveled

To what ends has it walked

In what oceans has it swam

What blood has it watched drip into streets

With nothing but a tear

In acknowledgement

The potential

That I was congratulated for

Told I was superior

Told I was meant

For something greater

But the definition of greatness

Is chosen by them

Without fail, it is and always will be

Money…

Their definition

That decides what humanity is

That decide who

Deserves humanity

That decides who is human

Their definition

That decides what intelligence is

That decide who

Can be intelligent

That decides who is intelligent

Their definition

That decides what success is

That decide where

Success must be achieved

That decides who is successful

Their system

That keeps you

Sitting…

Silent…

Scared…

But never

Successful

Their system

That pushes you

Slowly

From your path

To theirs

Their system

That gets you to tell yourself

That somewhere, down the road

You will speak for your people

You will fight for your people

You will die for your people

But until then

You shall sit

Sit and wait.

Sit still, sit quietly, sit obediently.

Sit until you forget the feeling of your legs touching the ground.

Until you forget the purpose of your misery.

Until you forget why you listen to droning lessons.

Why satisfy those undeserving?

Why wait for the world to recognize you?

Why wait to recognize the world?

Stand and wait.

Stand stiff, stand strong, stand uselessly.

Stand because you have a duty to the world.

A duty to the people without power.

A duty to the land without strength.

A duty to the government without purpose.

Without you, they fall.

Without you, they disappear.

But until then, you shall sit.

 

(Qur'an, 2:286). لَا يُكَلِّفُ اللَّهُ نَفْسًا إِلَّا وُسْعَهَا

"God does not burden a soul with more than it can handle"

 

You would not have been given shoulders

If you couldn’t handle

The weight of the world

 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Scout on Cycles/Without Fail

      And so I return, back to the black and white letters and the soft clacking of the keyboard. I return after the rejection of my fragility, knowing now that the escape is temporary. How can I find meaning in this obscure trouble? How can I continue to be angry at the fleeting wind? When all is said in done, I sit in crowded rooms alone and listen to phones ring without an answer. I look around only to count how many people have run from me, mistreated me, and spit on my name. Shallow walls swallow me in whenever I walk, cloudy air consumes my sentences whenever I speak. That pit in my stomach doesn’t leave because it is my soul; broken, abused, self-pitying, and pathetic, but still my soul. It and I long for the day that it will be free to find its purpose. Today, I watched the breeze shuffle through the leaves, and I remembered the days when I would stare up at it and wonder if it was all the same. Every road had trees almost exactly alike, which I learned from...
1 comment
Read more

Scout on Maturity/Broken Glass

  On the other side of the glass, I see the perfect version of myself. She walks with a skip in her step, and nothing about herself keeps her up at night or down in the morning. Everyone she knows loves her, and she finds a way to love them back. She has everything, she is everything, and her confidence is unwavering. The days behind the glass are long because they’re spent clawing at myself until I bleed. Why can’t you feel like them, love them like them, be loved like them? I hate when my reflection is too clear, when those eyes look as if they’ve rejected the idea of happiness. The glass breaks. At the shift of my image, I get angry with myself. You, in all your light and life and experience, sit here digging holes through yourself because you don’t fit a perfect mold? You sit here hating the color of your skin, your eyes, your hair, your body, your face, when you have everything to be grateful for? The wall shatters onto me, destroying the person that I ruthlessly despised, a...
Post a Comment
Read more

Scout on Standards/Thursday

  I don’t need their theme to play in the background. I don’t need to hear their whispers to know they speak about me. I don’t need to hear their footsteps to know they run from me. I don’t need anything. I can hear the tapping of the clock just fine, the drums just fine, the stomping just fine, the waves just fine. I don’t want to be able to read their lips or know the length of their stride. The drums are loud enough to drown out the sound of my ignorance. They asked me what I thought about love, and I told them I didn’t want it. Because the ones who told me they loved me whispered and ran and sang in the background of my misery. I heard their sultry piano on a long Wednesday afternoon. They drowned the clock, moving backward, and the drums blasting a Phil Collins song. I shook my head, hoping that my eardrums could come loose and my feet could plant roots immune to my temptations. The smooth solo drifted through the hardly open window, and I forgot what I did and didn’t need. I ...
Post a Comment
Read more