The glittering pages felt like a slap on my face. The exalting melody ended before it can even be sung. Like some faith that died before Jesus came. History tossed mercilessly under the rugs.
I can carry on being outside looking in. That is so excruciatingly normal for me. And I am used to getting less than what I put in. I am that stigmatized. Destiny has written my name in sand, erased by the ceaseless turn of the tide. But I swore to myself the sound of it will reverberate in echoes.
You can kick me off track with just a few words. But history and truth are on my side. I’m better than that and you may have the right and the excuse to act as you will. I will not play the fall guy anymore. The willing victim. The sacrificial blood has been drained from my veins not too long ago.
I turn to dust. The type that blindsights you in the eyes.
The heat that is alien to my skin awakens the dissident within. Yet I still play on broken strings.
***
I was there
When glory turned to pain
When sunshine turned to rain again
Shifting sands, changing times
I am a memory
***
Image courtesy of btk-queen on Flickr.
No comments:
Post a Comment