Here's the poem I mentioned in
my post of pictures that I hadn't actually put on the blog. I performed it during Babel's show.
His body is reminiscent of where a man could've been
A brown paper bag full of bones
Reflected on smoky mirrors
He is life altering decisions made last minute and in reverse
His tongue
In deep refusal to become familiar with the taste of weakness
Admits to knowing no fault
No frailty
No room for regrets
He will never admit to being broken
Instead, he’ll call
Speaking in a tone as limp as the branches that sway from willow trees
Equipped with a decade’s worth of insecurities
And burdens just as heavy
As if a bent back were his birth right
And I will rush to his aid
Lose my sense of discretion in sake of his defense
Distribute the weight of his demolished dreams amongst us
And pray to God that the creek don’t rise
You’ll have to pardon me
But I cannot fail him
See, our blood be thick
And all he has to depend on
When his arrogant attitude just sounds like a cry for help
And it seems that no one else can hear,
What in my ears, is painfully obvious
He is just angry
In search of answers only God could grant him
And self-imposed isolation has become his greatest survival tactic
But it’s only a successful method if you let it be
Won’t you choose something else for once
I know it’s not fun
Not the first charitable event that you’d eagerly list on a resume
But you have the power to save a life today
To see the beauty in his rage
And forgive him for it
Though he will never offer an apology
It’s okay to hold him accountable for his actions
But help steer him into making good ones
I can’t be our mother
Can only provide so much comfort
Before I’m forced to remember that I am just his younger sister
Closest of kin
And I can’t be a man for him
But here is my plea
Think of the man he still has the chance to be
Before counting him off as a lost cause
And offering a dank, dark space
Encased by metal bars as his home
Consider this poem
Look up to the sky
Steal the North star
And offer it to him as the guiding light he’ll need to walk in the right direction
It’s the most humane crime you could ever commit
I promise I’ll convince him to keep it in his back pocket should he give you any lip
And he probably will
In that brown bag body of a boy still searching for something to call his own
I wrote him this poem
In hopes that at his next life altering decision
You might find a little time and patience to spare
If not, the heart, to offer him redemption
Smile For Me,
B