oh, world pt. 2

this is the piece i was mentioning in the last blog post (oh, world pt. 1)

MOMMY AND DADDY ARE SAD
by Qu3eN G

at first i was sad for myself. i thought individually my heart broke until i felt the heart of the earth shatter
her palpitations increased so rapidly the vibrations shook her to pieces
too fast for the eye to see, but we feel
til her constant whirring deafened us to her screams of agony
and her heart ceased 
BOOM BOOM
boom-boom
boom
...
hush
whispering, she bled tears 
jagged remnants lasserating our misconception that mother earth can tolerate abuse from loveless children and still give forth love for the selfish
tearing through the shield of ignorance with which we covered our ears
if we would just listen we would hear mama begging for change
we would know Father God told us our end in the beginning
and His love can only grasp us from the underbelly if we acknowedge our weakness
fate is showing us our weak end
mama is trembling
for she is weeping and gnashing teeth
her lip quivers and or foundation quakes
and water trickles turn to typhoons of realization
that we are more fickle than we had imagined
you would think most children would hate to see their mother outpour tears shaped like demise
or hear their their father calling for love but never listening
you would think that
but we children are different
we can see our reflection in the aqua she birthed for us, yet we are blind
and we can hear the symphony he made for us
sang to us
played for us
yet we are deaf
and we can ask and ask and complain about the size of blessings yet
are mute when surroundings yell for change
mama i hear your heart freezing
i heard the icicles form when it stopped beating
the steady rhythm does not put babies in a living sleep any longer but
the soundless presence leads to a permanent rest
oh mama, even your tears are dropping in temperature, i feel your warmth no longer
the snow is the solidification of the pain of being ignored and it is taking places where you brother sun used to reside
oh mommy, oh daddy we are sorry
but i guess your hurt will make us all hurt too

Daddy, i cry for myself no more. now i just cry for the world. 
katrina i stil hear you, why does your ghost keep coming back? your reign isn't over though your rain has left us. your spirit is one of living dead, you have unfinished business thats why within souls you are causing unrest...you will never leave us. i can't get your voice out of my head so my nightmares share mental space with you, against their will. you make it so i will NEVER forget. 
tsunami....
some of your sisters forgot because when you broke their surroundings they said it was "so not me" so selfishly they made mockings of pity. couldn't they translate your terror? all you were saying was "soothe now me" it was your turn for consolation. but we never got the memo so your wrath you never let go and you re occur like a zero, in the number billion
when will your siblings learn
until we uproot our ways, our babies will be the victims?

Haiti i shed skin for you. sheets of optical aqua so thick it replaced my epi and dermis
and i float in sorrow for you, pools of emotional torment
leaving puddles of affliction everywhere i go
people know when you shook, you broke me
mommy you are so vexed with me
you took my blood because we stole your water
so now a dry dust flows through these veins and capilaries
i am just waiting for daddy to inhale and spiritually
blow this tragedy away

Chile i bellow for you. from the depths out of the core of my belly
i cry out to my daddy for you. LOUD reverberations of what you were never meant to be echo out of me, PAPA oh please cup your hand and drink our tears. sip on our sacrifice out of necessity, for the raising of hands in praise replicates the throwing of limbs in defeat. don't let us kill ourselves. we could not identify our suicide because its venom did taste so sweet...

and Japan, i always wanted to speak your language. i started, but i realize that the verbal communication and written symbols was not the kind you needed from me. that is not the type your island was speaking. she has always been a lover of manners but humans, humans always forget to say arigatoo. we have been eating more food than humility...and we don't recognize how much you have cried until you regurgitate massive travesty...

and oh my home, Africa, their silence is your tears. the chains were on our wrists but they have pursed our full lips. for plentiful years the quiet has been the mourning. your daughters legs have been stretched across the continent and thrashed at the meeting of her thighs. in the raping of our integrity she still births pre-mature children to an undernourished world, and they think only in bread and water but love would have fed her just fine. her womb has been beaten, bruises blue like her rivers and black like her night sky... and it sounds hollow like an empty drum, like the drums we used to beat and sway our culture bearing hips to.
though i rub her tummy and place my ear near her swollen navel, and i know her uterus is full of secrets we have been screaming but the world has not heard, residue of lies sitting at the rim. labor has never been so painful. your sons may as well have no legs because they have been walking on their knees. dirt of the ground nipping their joints, they are unaware that they have been blessed with the swiftest of feet because the only running they know these days is away from the wars that swallow them whole and the guns that harrass them and spit out bullets at their dreams. who will teach our men they are made in the image of their father God if injustice continually distorts their vision? blood covers their pupils, they have forgotten how to cry. instead they bawl in the form of dying births and reminiscences of who we know we were meant to be. i know they try to remember that truth in our resemblance but sometimes they forget that Jesus had lashes on his body too, so its just a form of identification when the scars on your back still sting, young men. we are starving papa... how many others fade mommy?

the dust of the earth bred our flesh but her sorrow wrings us dry; we cannot speak for when we open our mouths we can only cough up clouds of dead air. we havent used our voices in so long we forgot how to use them. our spirits dripping through tear ducts, suffocating our optimism, our hope evaporating. 

so yes, for you world, i do cry. i pray, and i cry.
no i lay me down to sleep, i pray papa my soul to keep
and if i die before i wake, mama give daddy my soul to take

Amen




love, compassion, royalty
Qu3eN G