Skip to main content

Scout on Bigotry/Slopes

Smooth slopes to travel down

For the dripping tears rarely released

My blank face in its reflection

Dumbfounded by her reaction

To my question

She turns around

To hide what you can see in her eyes

The image of her sons, brothers, fathers, and uncles

Wrapped in white cloth

By the thousands

In her choked cries

I hear their voices before they become a memory

 

Smooth slopes to travel down

For the people who ignore her tears

For the people who ignore the men wrapped by the thousands

In her voice, I think back, they weren’t the grunts of men

They were laughs of children

Cries of newborn babies

Wrap yourself in warm white clothes

Don’t forget that your position

Is a privilege

 

Smooth slopes to travel down

For my tears when I’m alone

Not created by the thousands of wrapped bodies

But by the turning of their cheeks

At the sight of a people’s disappearance

 

Smooth slopes to travel down

For people who think souls aren’t equal

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

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 Disconnect/Letters

  I wrote you a letter, but you never responded. I guess I could summarize it here, but you might not be able to get the original sentiment. It’s more of the fact that I can’t remember exactly how I felt when I wrote it, or what I felt that entire year, to be honest. I know who was there and, most importantly, who wasn’t, and that I was absent, at least mentally. Sometimes I look back and wonder what would have happened if I weren’t me, if I did things like all the people around me, who everyone says are more reasonable and level-headed. The truth is that I’m sorry about how I treated you. You never deserved to be ignored or taken for granted, but I can’t say that you didn’t set it up for yourself. Watching those people trample you and waiting so long to leave, it was as if you thought you couldn’t do better. Maybe you couldn’t, and maybe you still can’t, but there has to be more out there. If you weren’t so angry and rash all the time, then- no, I didn’t mean that, not completely....
Post a Comment
Read more

Scout on Memories/In the Stars

  I wanted to write a story about you. That’s why I ran down to Chan’s Grocery so late at night; I needed to get one of those stupid drinks you love to try and trigger a memory. It was something you had said on one of the days we sat outside of the little shop, with its blinding lights hitting our backs in the dark street. I was always in the light when I was with you, inside and out. Anyway, that day we were laughing so hard that people thought we were drunk. You had spit out your drink so far that it practically hit a moving car, which made us laugh harder and stumble back into the store to buy more, much to the amusement of the teenage cashier. Well, I forgot what had made us laugh so hard, so I thought that sitting here and drinking that terrible sugary concoction might bring it back into my mind. The cashier is different, much older and more tired, so I hope I don’t have to hysterically repurchase anything. I’m not sure if time is messing with my head, but sitting here, the li...
Post a Comment
Read more