Walk A Mile In My Blues - An Environmental Issues Homework

You were small back then

And for a second I thought that you were heaven sent

I watch you bloom in numbers, in fingers lesser than ten

Cradle you under a blanket of celestial bodies.

You did not realize how much to me you meant

But you swore that my insides you could mend

I keep myself from bursting to you, kept all the magma in its vent

As you grew with more mouths to feed, feet over my shoulder to burden

I close my eyes to rest, to later know what houses are instead of the wraps of caves and the crafts of your tent

You wanted to explore me, so you learned how to swim, walk, run, and fly from end to end

But I did not ask for your curiousity, I asked for you care,

The minute I turn I was in shades that were not of my own,

Your voices echoing my ears on how I wasn’t fair,

You’re now everywhere, and yet I’m somehow left alone.

It all started from a fire left lit for me to burn high and dry,

All the mess that I have become now, yet you’d still wonder why

My rain drenches day and night, or none at all to leave your sight,

But you did not recognize them as my cry

There were days where I once lulled you through these seashells,

And I swore that that was the day I fell,

Onto a tale that started with a spark that only the sun could ever retell

The comfort of my oceans,

You came out of to pick the stars above

Into the glitz and glamours,

Of electricity powered towers,

Gas heated long showers,

Roofs you crawl in to cower,

Industrial machinery that sprawls like flowers,

All you’ve grown to love.

My emerald hair now short, in spots burnt, my complexion gray,

To you I would honestly have nothing to say,

For you knew what we’ve been through,

And you’re aware of the things you do

You hear the distant wind only to ignore it as a clue,

Only few would try to heal these bruises,

I regret not loving the others as much as you,

For along side me, they can also feel the same cuts too

Walk a mile in my shoes and maybe by then you could feel my blues,

All my pools are dried up, but you sit there staring at my pain within each news,

The lush of my hair pulled,

The fruits that I bear picked,

My barriers drilled, and I slowly melt,

Cursing for you to drown

But you couldn’t hear my screams.

You boast about my beauty as if you’re somehow stuck in dreams

In delusions of the Eden we once knew that is no longer what it seems, Walk a mile in my blues, and perhaps the lack of oxygen when you drown would stop you from acting obtuse.

Reality TV - A Spoken Word Piece on Ancestry.

I’ve been told that home to me was a village where my ancestors are, 

Up north and far

Where the last time I was there, I was five ...& in pigtails

Ignored by actual pigs in our backyard for trying to teach dinner how to high-five.

Fast-forward, 

I’m almost 20; ugh being pale is apparently pretty. 

But being like this…

Increases difficulty in finding suitors to… marry?

You don't have anyone? Here meet my son... But anthropology? wait you're not studying to become a doctor? 

............................

At least I now have the recipe… on how to cook 

The pigs; I’ve now grown to miss.

--

Confession: 

From then, till now I have never really learned how to properly pray.

It’s always been me saying what’s up hear me out… I have a lot to say --

Too / to, whoever’s out there in charge of signs – can you at least help me figure out mine?

From then till now, every morning my mom who got it from her mom honors them a shot of coffee & I wonder if they would stir it with the beauty they choose to see instead of the far college life of this mutiny. 

I don’t know, if their surveillance camera is strictly here, or everywhere. If they actually would only see me for the cigs replacing incenses, the bad I do & wear, this Balinese’ missing river-like hair, 

Surely never for my proses though, they said that those things they wouldn’t care.

This concept of ancestry had me thinking that we’re like a reality TV in other dimensions. I mean, Mufasa told us anyway that the great kings of our past look down on us behind constellations.

And I try to look up at the skies consulting my “Why”s as if all its glitters are wise only to find myself frazzled, suddenly awake at AM hours by the beach. Maybe if I lay by these sands long enough stars would actually fall to prance around giving wishes & answers away - A camouflage! My go to excuse for this head of bleach…

Maybe if I fly, 

In which I finally did for I too was trying to figure out on my own what a home is, when you only go back to your country once a year… But I swear despite such annual fear, when I glued my face to the windows they finally greeted in what seemed like a rain of fairy dust. Answering nothing else aside questions on their presence. Though, It’s unfortunate how our mother tongue is now Negativity for when I mentioned this they said I was just too sleepy.

But perhaps they too are sleepy from a lifetime of all seeing or so it seems & all they'd want from us are pleasant dreams, so who are we to speak on such behalf. 

 I got it from my mom, who got it from her mom, who got it from all of our moms before – 

to never give in to conventions 

      and expectations 

           and oppressions 

since betcha' they too wouldn’t want any of us 

their tv 

to be such a bore.