Sunday, September 04, 2005

An attempt to clear my head

I have been on the verge of tears for days. Knowing you live in a society deeply rooted in racism, inhumanity and short-sightedness, somehow doesn't prepare you to stare it in the face. I am sickened by the language used, by the lack of respect and leadership. Our government doesn't have our back, and our security doesn't exist in this homeland. I visited New Orleans this summer, I turned 40 in New Orleans! It will be forever changed. The following is an attempt to clear my thoughts, although, true clarity and understanding may never be gained.

Water
Theresa Davis © 2005

Water, water everywhere But not a drop to drink,
Not pure enough to make you holy
But real enough to make you think
Not clean enough to quench your thirst
Falling tears make levels rise
As those perched safely on dry land
Morn the many who have died

Flooding emotions make my head spin
As I dog paddle towards the air pockets in my mind
That don't exist
This drowning sensation that presses On my lungs
as I Choking on fear, on sorrow
And my lack of understanding of how
I could be drowning without the presence of
Water

Trickling through my fingers
I stand before a mirror
My reflection not quite right
Tortured expressions that can't be washed away with the
Water
I use to Wash away the tears
it seems redundant
Seems wasteful
Seems wrong
And I'm afraid that it won't work
I saw you in May for the first time
Because I wanted to know your face
The road I traveled
Gone,
In the aftermath of Katrina's fury
Sanctioned by Mother Nature
And those who could have prevented chaos, death, desperation
The road I traveled
Washed clear
As clear as the liquid flowing through my splayed fingers
Water

This element
This necessary libation
That can take on many forms
This wonder of nature
That sustains Gives birth to new generations
More of it in our bodies
Than the blood that flows through our veins
Like
Water
Everywhere
But not a drop to drink
Not pure enough to make you holy
But real enough to make you think
Not clean enough to quench you thirst
Falling tears make levels rise
As we perched safely on dry land
Morn the many who have died
And the many who will need us
as they struggle to survive

1 comment:

Collin said...

Damn, honey, you are getting spammed hard. The poem rocks, and your reading of it Sunday at Java was a highlight. Smoochies.