my close friends know that when i completely run out of words, that’s when the poetry flows out of my soul on its own.
but right now, even poetry is failing me. All i have is one line, words that are swimming in my mind in an endless loop, hitting the walls of my brain and bouncing off again into the madness. The words are simply:
“when you become a third person narrative”
my close friends also know how deeply connected i am to Maya Angelou’s words, which i will one day tattoo on my body. But for now, i will not rise. For now, i don’t feel like air. I feel more like dust. For now, i am in pieces – my body become particles of dust – scattered all over. It will take me time to collect the pieces of myself and put them back together.
at this moment, it is that first line of hers that echoes in my mind, as i am a woman of words, and sometimes people don’t realize that words have actual power to break people and shatter them.
and when someone you deeply care about literally shoots you down with words, and then to rub it in, addresses you in the third person “they” – as if you’ve become a third-person fictional narrative, a story of the past, and all in the name of some big ideology and senseless politics (at the end of the day ideology and politics that you yourself believe in), that’s when you lose even your poetry.
“You may shoot me with your words,
you may cut me with your eyes,
you may kill me with your hatefulness,
but still, like air, I’ll rise.” Maya Angelou (1928-2014)
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