Hands

My hands don’t keep quiet

The twitching started after the years I do not talk about

Always waiting to run away

Asking for forgiveness each time I tiptoe around the secrets I keep in a chest by my bed

The obituary my betrayed hands wrote my then dying body lying at the bottom

Waiting to resurface at the perfect moment to remind me where I came from

There is no easy way to cry in public

My legs often forget that the time to keep running has long passed

Itching to move every time I sit down long enough to tear my chest open wide enough to let me bleed for the world to see what they did to me

Blame has nowhere to settle down but on the scars left where no one knows to look but me, faded to white but still visible enough to know the graveyard remains

Tears no longer flow rivers from my eyes

Many days I feel evicted from my own body

I trusted them

The acid of their names drops my heart to my knees

My heartbeat keeps my leg bouncing – my heart had no road map back up to my chest

Maybe my hands were never meant to sit still

Only created for them to create in the aftermath of a devastating hurricane

Because only then did I pick up a pen and begin scratching my life story in poems

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s