They come at me like,
“Oh you know how it’s like for them!”
“You mean how it’s like for us?”
They forget just cuz you put me in a separate category,
You, being divisive, compartmentalizing struggle,
And saying, “cuz we all struggle in life,
But I yell BS
Slap the cards down,
Let’s all show our cards,
But you separate,
Cuz you’re scared that if we compare notes,
We’d know what you’ve been doing to us this whole time?
You’re fallacy is presuming we aren’t all more intelligent
Than the ghettos you create.
Hood to hood?
But only you’re the ones wearing hoods
Disguised in euphemisms,
That only create division,
Cuz how do you keep you’re lies
If everyone speak the same language,
I’ve been thinking a lot of Plato’s Allegory of the Cave recently.
Imagine prisoners tide up side by side in darkness placed in front of a blank stone wall. The prisoners can turn their heads nor move so that they can’t see one another. Behind them there is a fire and the captors have people walking in front of the fire with puppets so that it casts a shadow upon the wall the prisoners stare at. Any sounds and talk, these prisoners believe come from the shadows in the wall. This is the reality they live in and they have no knowledge of people or the captors behind them.
One day they are set free and have to crawl through a narrow tunnel to an opening into the outer world. When first reaching the outside they see the light of the sun and it’s blaring and painful because they’ve only known darkness their whole life. It hurts their eyes and burn their skin, so they retreat back into the comfort of their darkness into the only reality they’ve known their whole life, not understanding it’s been an illusion.
However a few realize there is something more outside and decide to go back into the light. Over time their eyes adjust and the sun feels good. They realize in that moment that the shadows they thought were real were only replications of what is real under the sun while some stay in the darkness, those who go outside can finally live free.
What I believe is the reality can hurt when you live in the comfort of illusion for so long, but eventually the light of reality is the only way to live a life beautiful and free.
allegoryofthecave #plato #reality #illusions #freedom #justiceforahmaudarbery
We plant the seeds for our future,
Everything falling into place,
To grow bigger than the baobab,
And harder than diamonds.
We came together as seeds,
Fell right beside each other,
Growing taller than redwoods,
And harder than Visionaries
Who fell for their dreams,
So we can build the love we sense,
Into concrete beams
Taller than the tallest
Skyscraper a man can evince.
It’s as if you walked out of the pages from my diary when I was twelve. It was my sacred diary with a castle on the cover and a cheap metallic painted lock with tiny key that held my deepest secrets. I had an untainted ideal of love and who my soulmate would be.
After years of convincing myself that man was a silly fantasy, here you stand.
Now and then I wish there wasn’t a hint of a stain.
It would make falling in love simple,
But a piece of me is at peace with everything because that slight makes me believe this life is real.
Life is real
Life is real
Life is real.
And that’s magnificent!
Come to the wild ones,
Sprouting wishes like djinn,
He says, “just three!”
But all you need’s to be free.
A sweet moment in the between times of falling in love and falling apart where action is subdued and one could hear the buzzing fly cutting the dead air humming silence.
The in Between of the inhalation and the exhalation,
That’s the moment you’ll find the treasure you seek that feels like the only thing that ever existed,
And as you exhale it will be gone but the faint memory of the possibilities will remain until you are either driven into madness,
Or surrender to the next breath.
I shot down each of my demons
And One by one laid clear my path,
I pulled one with the fletching torn,
As i stood face to face with a monstrous beast.
Without my arms I trembled
Eyes closed and cold sweat crawling zig zags down my cheek.
I died a hundred deaths before I opened my eyes
and saw before me
The beast quivering
eyes closed and beads of sweat.
I touched its shoulder
And the Eyes fluttered Open
My own eyes staring back
Holding a Broken arrow.
I died one hundred deaths
Before I opened my eyes.
Lying in bed with my 3 year old he says, “mommy because….. I love you forever.”
“You know what forever means?”
“Yeah because you’re always with me.”
“I love you forever and ever and ever.” But as I speak I think, well there’s a chance by circumstance I won’t be here forever, realistically thinking. “But Baby, what if I’m not here forever? What if maybe I am sent away one day?”
He stares into my eyes silent for some time. I stare back.
“Well then I will fly up and catch you. Yeah I will fly up and catch you and bring you back down so you will be with me forever.” He speaks with conviction.
“I love you baby Forever and ever!”
I didn’t grow up celebrating Christmas.
It was like my brother and I were Hansel and Gretel wandering like orphans wandering into strange yards watching through windows other families cozied up by a fire place with a Christmas tree illuminating the room and families holding tradition.
We stood outside doors waiting to be invited in and watch them open presents and enjoy the good high spirits of whatever tradition they celebrated while our own parents worked all night and day on their busiest night of the year.
Neither completely Korean nor American, we had less tradition to hold on to, but the dream of my parents was for us to belong here.
And so I am,
Witnessing my children completely apart of “their” tradition,
And I am standing completely a part of it rather than watching through someone’s window,