Words Fail Me
When I look at
the box to check that
asks me if I’m white
(like Apartheid, right?)
Words fail me
When I hear a slur
thrown at his/her
clothing on the street
(too butch or too sweet)
Words fail me
Then I remember what
my ancestry is, and cut
straight to the chase –
Whether it’s race
or “homoqueerdyke” –
Riley sure didn’t like
it, she took them on
Must have gone til dawn
Whatever the abuse
There is no excuse
I find my mind; suddenly
My words do not fail me
© 2014 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
The great Brian Miller at dverse Poets asked for the theme “when words fail you.”
It’s one thing to be stopped in my tracks by utter stupidity, insensitivity, and hate speech. It’s another to let it pass. I will always calmly try to talk them in off the Limbaugh Lemming Ledge… even though we have “concealed carry” in this state. It’s worth the risk, if only to stand for justice and work for peace. And it always ends up with a moment of standoff and an apology. (Caveat: I don’t take on the clearly unmedicated who could do me real harm, because they are speaking out of their own illnesses.) Peace, Amy
WARNING: NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HEART
———————————–
Two different views of the same woman – one from across the room, one within. A true story, based on experiences with a multiracial social justice group. Eventually, we came to an understanding… Amy
Dissonance: The Races, We Run
See that white lady
She so smug, so set
Grew up in suburbs
Daddy workin a steady job
Mom at home, waiting for kids from school
See that white lady
She grew up with privilege
No latchkey, no projects, no “free lunch” line
She told me they had a pool out back with sharks in it
What the hell she talkin
See the same white lady, staring in the mirror
See her take all those prescription drugs
to keep it together, 50 years after the fact
After the house on the cul de sac
Watch her heaving sobs in the therapist’s office
‘Cause some nights, the swimming ended and
The Shark grew lungs and feet and
a heavy, stumbling footfall
He’d open her bedroom door
and feast
Peel back the siding of the placid ‘burbs
Tread carefully the manicured lawns
Pick up a spyglass, examine the nasty underbelly
Throw open the drapes at midnight
Breathe deep – the stench of incest and vermouth
© 2012 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Also for ABC Wednesday (brought to you by the letter “D”) and, as always, Poets United.
Sharp Little Pencil 