all day I’ve been thinking of
what I’m facing,
soon going home to my family,

4th of July fireworks,
festivities, dreading the
possibility of seeing
those I don’t wish to see.

driving into the state
will cause anxiety,
no welcome nostalgia
washing over me,

as the home I felt safe in,
torn down and razed,
now a church parking lot for
the confused and dazed.

and yeah,
that’s easy for me to say,
down here, hidden from
the view of the Beehive state,
from a childhood I can’t forget,
I was one of them,
but now I’ve defected,

seen not as a human,
but a pitiful case
of a woman, child, mother
who lost her way,
from God’s forgiving gaze,
words of prophets denied,
denounced as hate,
meant to suppress and restrict
from any life enjoyment,

deeper still from the time
needed to reflect,
on times malicious and sad,
full of corruption and sin,
those men leaned onto Jesus,
and now they’re forgiven.

as much as I wish
I could say the same,
I sit here pondering
the vortex that claimed me,
as I drive into the city
where I was born and raised,
feeling like a natural enemy,
who won’t drink the koolaid.

I’m a poet,
my words flow from every vein,
it will be the hardest task
for me to behave, but I won’t

not anymore,
I’m not a girl, naive,
who took the world
upon her shoulders,
massive responsibilities,

each time I left and came back,
more consequences
of being in a place cursed
with excuses and entitlement.

forgive my anger at a
place that was ruined for me,
worship for another
step on the ladder to eternity,

I didn’t just climb down and
say this isn’t for me,
I fell down on my face,
scraped the dirt off,
ran for the hills,
hidden from eyes of judgment
for living my life as I saw fit;

I’ll swallow my pride,
see them,
and drown in it.

Emily Cloward © 2018

3 Comments Add yours

  1. Nitin says:

    This is amazing. Wow!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you, Nitin, as always.

      Liked by 1 person

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