all day I’ve been thinking of

what I’m facing,

soon going home to my family,

4th of July fireworks,

festivities, dreading the

possibility of seeing

those I don’t wish to see.

driving into the state

will cause anxiety,

no welcome nostalgia

washing over me,

as the home I felt safe in,

torn down and razed,

now a church parking lot for

the confused and dazed.

and yeah,

that’s easy for me to say,

down here, hidden from

the view of the Beehive state,

from a childhood I can’t forget,

I was one of them,

but now I’ve defected,

seen not as a human,

but a pitiful case

of a woman, child, mother

who lost her way,

from God’s forgiving gaze,

words of prophets denied,

denounced as hate,

meant to suppress and restrict

from any life enjoyment,

deeper still from the time

needed to reflect,

on times malicious and sad,

full of corruption and sin,

those men leaned onto Jesus,

and now they’re forgiven.

as much as I wish

I could say the same,

I sit here pondering

the vortex that claimed me,

as I drive into the city

where I was born and raised,

feeling like a natural enemy,

who won’t drink the Kool-Aid.

I’m a poet,

my words flow from every vein,

it will be the hardest task

for me to behave, but I won’t

not anymore,

I’m not a girl, naive,

who took the world

upon her shoulders,

massive responsibilities,

each time I left and came back,

more consequences

of being in a place cursed

with excuses and entitlement.

forgive my anger at a

place that was ruined for me,

worship for another

step on the ladder to eternity,

I didn’t just climb down and

say this isn’t for me,

I fell on my face,

scraped the dirt off,

ran for the hills,

hidden from eyes of judgment

for living my life as I saw fit;

I’ll swallow my pride,

see them,

and drown in it.

Emily C. Poésie © 2018

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