honor you, honor me

Give me a shout out if ya hear me, ladies! I know you know

how it feels to have him crush you into the pavement

with his words and his anger, only to scrape you

like something he accidentally stepped in

scrape you off the bottom of his boot. Your innate value (you have it)

is pummeled by the metaphorical butt of his gun, yes, it is. Well, okay

there doesn’t have to be violence, I know. It could just be the way

he knits his brows together into an impatient frown, or taps

his feet into the dance of frustration, or the way he seems to nearly run

away from you when you only wanted to say hello. You feel me?

You got me? He’s got time for you

like you got a voice to answer back. No, it ain’t true. No voice on you.

Sister, I hear you choking through the smiles and the Yes, Sirs

and the Of Courses, and the I’ll Get It Right Aways. I hear you puking

up your rage and up your power and whoosh it goes

straight down the vortex of thelootheheadthejohn. The Head, The John

I never thought about those words before, have you?

My wish, from the first time I used my lungs to trumpet the advent of Me,

to this moment when I cringe in the revelation that I am swallowing


that isn’t good for me –

my wish has always been this: Stand beside me.

No need for toe to toe, don’t want no towering over, ain’t got the time

for nose to nose, just stand beside me. We could,

pay homage to those blurry little lines that bleed on the page

until words form the perfect picture of yin and yang. My wish?

To honor you, to honor me.


About theminstrelscitadel

In search of courageous souls who aren't afraid to dig a little deeper and have a conversation about all manner of things. Rant, rave, debate, discuss... let's do it!
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