Occupy Your Heart

How can I write of beauty when my brothers and sisters are struggling through the ugly verbal attacks of ignorant discontents who spit out their insults and small minded reprimands like they are hacking up globular remnants of the sickness inside of them? How can I write of the soul when even the expression of it is illegal? When the words of my heart are squandered on the slick black pavement crawling with the sullied boots of those who say they know what is best for me? How can I dance to the tunes of the earth when the music is swallowed by the hungry maw of a police officer’s bull horn, bouncing off the hard faces of corporate offices that preside over my desperate meditations with a demeaning scoff? How can any voice be heard over the suffocating hand of Uncle Sam over our mouths, shushing us like bad children who never learned to use our ‘inside voices’?

I will tell you how I will do it.

I will speak to deaf ears, sing the words to a song that has no lyrics, dance to the melodies of car horns and sirens. My bare feet will walk the dirty concrete careless of the grime that seeks to make them recoil back into warm boots. I will stand fast while the winds of change wail around me, those gales that blow from the mouths of those who speak freely even as they are villanized for their honesty. I will join hands with the stranger beside me who prays to a different God, who is a different color, who believes in something I do not, who despite all their differences is a human being just like I am, who is breathing the same noxious air and is falling sick from the pollution.

I will stand in representation of nobody but myself, never having the hubris to tell another they should agree with me. I will stand here quietly humming the tunes of the earth, contributing my small vibration to the ascending melodies of this universal heartbeat. I will supply a subtle back beat, a knowing eye, a smile given for free, and arms that will hug anyone not too afraid to be loved.

So I will tell you now my unknown reader: I love you. I love your dirty jeans, your silk tie, your red panties, your work boots, your little black dress, your tired smile, your frown of discontent, your voice that sings out of key, your nightmares, your secret smiles, your longing, your giggles, your five o’ clock shadow, your scarlet lipstick, and all the things that make you my fellow brother/sister/mother/father/ancestor/nightmare/savior. In the sickness of your heart and the health of your untouchable soul, I will stand by you.

Until death do us part…

Advertisements

Share Your Thoughts...

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 )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ 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 )

Connecting to %s