I lost my spark when the match wouldn’t light. I tried to use my flashlight so that I could see the paper beneath my pen, but the battery was dead. So instead tears fell upon that paper, the words never came like the poetry lost in my phone when reset. My heart erased. There is nothing but numbness where passion was, and digging deep, I still can’t find the words to complete what I had felt. My stories go on, but even the sound of waves don’t bring me elaborate details of analytical thoughts. I clean, I sing, I try to dance, and this world has me spent on who I am — wasted on the fact that they force you to ride the merry go round stealing what was ours in the first place. Our spirits, in it freedom, when we were told in this life we could be anyone and anything given you worked at it. All lies alibi’s to deceive us into believing we mattered. And I used to think I did before people I loved, naysayers forced themselves into my mind, breaking my backbone, causing me to pray to a man above, a man! For it is the man who makes it impossible for the women to break free! And there is nothing our society has done to make it easy to wriggle out of this perpetual circle they have us entrapped in! And when we choose to rebel in the slightest way they make sure we know we’ve gone astray.
Angela K. Crandall ©9/11/19