so, you had your bones broken—neck, rib,
leg—and blood covering the entire curb on a sidewalk
you were too familiar with.
you remembered, right?
of course you did; even your ill memory
would not forget the blaring sound of shots
and madness from the dark, the pain so excruciating
that it did not make you cry. you went silent
with your thoughts scattered all over your brain, your
wounded torso begging to bleed even more.
you knew, right?
you had to scream but no sound ever came
out of your agape, clamorous mouth. you thought
you were screaming, though. you thought
you were heard. you thought
that the last light blinding your already hazy vision
was already help. now tell me,
how did it feel to have your eyes wide awake
but could not see anything? how did it feel
to have your hands twitch without the jolt
in your consciousness, just like when you
were falling asleep the night before?
but never mind, you are alive,
and you demand every vein, sense, and cell
in your body to go back to how they are before. you
want to forget. and you know, that this room had bodies
like yours before, supine and unknowing.
but never mind, you are alive!
and everyone demands your silence and
forgetfulness. and you shall leave unscathed.
you talked about flowers and how beautiful they were
today. you wanted that vibrant red of roses, the strong red
that only reminded you of roses—and love and your fiery eyes.
how about those water lilies afloat
on the pond you used to walk by every day, did you like seeing
how light and peaceful they were too? but flowers
withered over time, and you always thought
of how lifeless and frail they got. you did not like that. so,
every time you got new ones, you kept them stashed
in between your least favorite book because you
only wanted flowers to remind you
of the colorful and beautiful. and they
made you feel alive.
—c // 200602