I can. speak

Was I ever in control- wwas I ever in control
when my mouth slips and slurs
when my brain forgets the words
despite my heart knowing exactly which grain of sand
I’m trying to put into another’s hand —
the pain of ushering rush, tongue tied
tight in knots, I know which grain I want to lift up to share, exactly which angle I want the sun’s light to glint and glare, as you wait n stare
What is it that makes me stop and sputter a stutter?  I’m stammering as I’m hammering my thoughts to bring out the diamonds the sapphires the emeralds but lifting the jewels with
Buttered fingers, blushed cheeks
apologetic smile, flushed stiff
cold sweat and jittering streaks I used to stuff toilet paper under my armpits to hide the overwhelming feeling of my feeling like a freak, an adult who doesnt know how to speak–

Nervous and frail I hear my noise..  I say I do know poise,

I do not have my tail between my legs, But this twist and whirling zoom is not tamed on a leash,
How much can I beg myself my self to OWN my self and find the word I know exists, the meaning I know matters the feeling I know is real, and even when that word comes out of the treasure chest I dug out of the marked X that I placed, the one whom I’m in command of- my tongue- decides to hide or my lips miss the signal that it’s time to dismiss another message to the listener I hoped to entertain with my play, my lines, my words, my simple auditory communication,.. now I wonder was I ever in

control

when I became shy and couldn’t say

why

“Be Patient” they say

 

Be patient

there’s much more for a person to do in a damned situation than “be patient”
at a time of pain, remorse, and depression
seeing only gray and thinking in plain unending coils downward into a trance
it’s deathly call for submission as you struggle with your soul to hang up high and be saved from the black flames of the devils dance
it’s more than two hollow words “be patient”

it’s a war
with a garden near by
there’s a fire surrounding the garden
and you’re covered In wounds
the smoke is dense
and can barely see your path
behind you is destruction and in front of you is your fight
your trophy is your garden but even before that you must hover over that fire

it’s hectic it’s chaos
blurry vision
and confused direction
you’re wrong for looking up
you’re wrong for looking down
until you realize your path is right before you
to challenge the view
that thought that seemed true

the love and promise
that seemed to keep you alive
you were alive because of your own faith
for that love and promise was all fake
it was only there like a flag  that flows only as long as you keep blowing air
but once you’re out of breath
it’s limp and meaningless

and “be patient”, you say?

cuz if it were you I’d say
-I’m here for you all the way
just tell me what to do and I’ll obey
because your hardship is real to me
and your struggle is seen
we’ll both pull you out
as though it were a dream