excelsior

these hills echo the sounds of soul drums. perfectly timed to the steady rhythm of labor. millions of voices reaching for the heavens. their melodies intertwining with the stars. these hills are humming the songs of the un(shackled).

gaze upon this broken world and forget not that i am near

yesterday the world fell on me i've been atlas for some time now holding the weight of the world  the sky on my shoulders  but yesterday it fell pinning me to the ground trapping me the weight  in all its power and glory trapped me  mocked me as i tried  to move push it off ignore it the more closed off to the pain the greater the burden  became  i tried to shut it out, but the pain in all its power and glory  drew blood from my veins tore the skin straight off  my bones it ate me up spit out the remains and buried the evidence buried me deep way down where no one would think to look

watch her as she walks across the room do you see her slumped shoulders the way her back curves like the crescent moon her pain etched into her very being watch her move her burdened limbs cutting through the negative space carving her story that almost instantly vanishes into thin air watch her sit with a sigh as she relaxes  into the couch  disappearing into the cushions her body dissolving into nothing watch her as she picks herself up and pushes through the webs the world has woven around her watch her watch her rise 

we all come from twisted roots an identity crisis? ah, that’s nothing new- bridging cultures countries  continents a daily script we endlessly run through- displaced misplaced a vortex of internal insecurity coupled with mirthless monologues that attempt to define me I never connected with the soil of my father’s birth and yet here living in my mother’s country everything rejects me don’t feign you understand me don’t claim you really listen to me don’t pretend you incorporate me am I forever doomed to a hyphenated reality? how come you don’t even try to accept my version of me my being feels rejected like a donated organ in a foreign body- I am not an immigrant half of my DNA was birthed in the spirit of eternal freedom yet that freedom doesn’t extend to my religion the other half of my DNA was also birthed in a vilified spirit of freedom but that form of freedom lacks the room to grow to breathe in- I breathe in politician’s ignorant sound bites claims that my people are terroris...