spirit points.

there are things that should remain quiet,
hush-hush
like that first time you snuck her in
and you begged and bribed your little sister
not to tell.
like the fact that you know your mother doesn't really feel anything
anymore
so she makes herself busy,
unavailable
to pretend she feels too much

my grandmother kept it hush hush
when i kissed her
and told her that's the way women loved each other
she brushed it off because i was only six
and what could i know?

we kept it hush hush that things were falling apart
and that we were falling, all falling,
under the pressure of a crumbling roof
and crumbling finances
we never told anyone
until the last minute when my uncle caved from the pressure
of loving a son who never loved himself
enough to love his life
no one saw the decay
even now we cover it up
keep it quiet
for sake of saving face.
but my mother said to day
that words were my expertise
and that was the exact moment
that all my words and every thought
became a mute, hush-hush bunch
of calligraphy on a page
and every person who ever believed in them
was lost completely
in a false prophet who couldn't find it in herself
to ever speak again

tomorrow, my voice will catch on
words i haven't had the heart to write yet
because writing it down just makes it louder
and more real
and i've never been a fan of reality
i've never stayed still long enough
to see anything but blurred edges
my words have been nothing
but apathy rewinding itself
to the point where i felt the most real
my voice has been on fast forward
so that everything i say becomes meaningless
i don't enunciate what i feel

my feelings
have become raw,
scratching up my throat
like an epidemic of last hopes
that all of us will just make it out
aloud, alive

© 2009 Marcea L. Brown. All rights reserved