Wednesday, August 13, 2008

To the poet who does not speak

Angels who can no longer put pen to pad and grow. Ghost who can't stand on stages, breathe through mics,
have electrical currents, current through the crowds, making them loud
and proud just to be a part of their sound. Dead poets mouths filled with last words, last thoughts, last spasmodic creative incisions that will never make suicides jumps off of still tonguesNever to be cut from now silent minds on operating tables. I come to you as their open wound not really knowing how to piece me back together but I would rather stay open,
Praying that I have become the reparation for those that have gone too soon. Hoping that their words will flow through me
As they take their new celestial bodies to give everyone of you air hugs and butterfly kisses one more time before they exit stage right.
We, desperately finding peace in the fact that our warriors
Fought the good fight without regret
They held on, long enough
Giving us one last kind word, one more sly wink goodbye
Just to remind us that they are going to be alright and
With time we will be alright without them around… physically
To remind us that we are warriors
Just because they are gone doesn't mean that the war is over but it has only evolved.
They resolve to shout at us in their silence to get us to fight on. So from here on I will fight...
So from here on we will fight…No longer are we to keep my mouths shut while our comrades,
Lie in graves, when we would have traded anything for them to be on this stage
We will breathe their ashes to keep our hands steady and keeping our pens ready, to be our very best
Never taking for granted the complex simplicity of this life
Remembering that being on this stage is not a choice but
This is our destiny …our legacy I could never take back what was done to me, because the day you lost your voice to death’s calling card… I finally found mine
Instead of going against you in battles we speak in unison for now
I have the honor of you living in me and I finally know now
That this is where I was suppose to be. So when we come to open mics, slams, poetry house parties, talent shows, brave new voices, nationals, or any where you can speak your mind.
Know that this could be your final kiss goodbye, and let them know that we love this..

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