I didn’t want to write anything,
Because I didn’t want to say anything,
Because I didn’t want to feel anything.
But suppression of the tears didn’t work,
Because they were gathered on my pillow this morning.
And I wish I were this stoic character,
And that words didn’t touch me,
And that the torches made me laugh,
But I’m not.
I’m not that.
And I hope to never be someone that doesn’t feel but-
This one is hard.
And this one hurts.
And I’ve known for a long time there were people out there who wished me harm,
People who would never know me or my story or my inclination towards love
Because they don’t care.
They don’t care to learn, to know, to love.
(Pause. Tears on my hands somehow.)
They’d rather…I don’t know. What was that?
What were those images, those words- I don’t understand.
(Pause.)
Please explain to me why,
Because I don’t have the words.
And I can’t logic this away the way I did the election,
(Which hurt too, a different kind of pain, the in the blood kind of pain, the wound that never heals kind of pain)
Why they, how they, what they (they as if the other is just as devoid of humanity as they think I am)-
Hate fuels you?
How?
Because it breaks my heart.
Shatters it even.
Hate so much you needed fire,
You needed to gather-
Hate so much you wanted to get into agreement with other hate filled eyes?
Why?
What are you doing?
And I may be far away
But the planet isn’t big enough
For you to exist
In “one nation under God” with me
It doesn’t make sense.
I wish there were a pause here but my tears are gone.
And now
A different kind of thing is here.
I didn’t want to feel anything,
Because I didn’t want to say anything
Because I didn’t want to write anything
And feel hatred too.
(Pause for hands made into fists.)
And feel hatred too.