In the soil was planted fear
meant to flower into disgust and hate
so that their sense of right and wrong
became twisted like purple vines meant to suffocate
and we became something other than human:
green growths climbing skyward
but existing only to be ripped out by the roots
allowed to desiccate in the sun that would otherwise
provide sustenance
They were taught to see us as abominations,
emboldened by the bible, or by abhorrence, or by both.
Entitled men with sticks in their hands tend to use them
so that in protest you’ll find
as they lean on theirs
you’ll be beneath them
feeling the weight of your pride
in bruises
and blood
And then
pinned to the dirt
surrendering atop the soil
it becomes hard to remember
that you haven’t
always
been
a bleeding heart
Originally published by Another New Calligraphy, April 2022
Re-published by The Red Penguin Collection, June 2022
marks in the sand 