Black, I, Mountain.
By William Alexander | August 20, 2010
I dedicate this to anyone in the world who has ever had a tiny kit of make up
Hidden, maybe, hidden in the upper right hand corner drawer of the bathroom.
A tiny kit of makeup specifically
for covering up black eyes.
Black eyes given to them by that same person to whom they have said on a daily basis,
“I love you.”
I dedicate this to anyone who has ever looked at a mountain and felt the same shame.
You see, I believe everything is a microcosm and a macrocosm of everything else.
And as such, this is a song about me learning the difference between being in pain and being a victim.
And as such, this is a song about you learning the difference between letting go and giving up.
Also, this isn’t best as a song, but better just being spoken and maybe alternating between a G and a E minor chord.
——
It is called Black. I, Mountain.
I opened my eyes for the very first time
with these… hands…
around. my neck! (?)
These hands that broke my heart and soul
and slowed my blood and breath.
I opened my eyes in that hospital bed
when my skull and my flesh were a wreck.
and I escaped (and I mean every sense of these words)
I escaped from the shadow of death.
And I crawled back down on my palms and my knees
to that den of torment and lies.
But this time,
the make up I used in the mirror to hid the black and the blue that was housing these eyes could never, no matter how hard we had tried, begin to pretend to start to disguise
the fires that we hand kindled.
Because I have my own foundation.
I opened my eyes for the very first time and I lost the power to see
as the seer and seen got lost in between
the self
the other
and me.
and I looked to the stars and saw family
and in the rocks and the trees and my friends.
and I forgot what it meant to believe in a soul
with beginnings
or middles
or ends.
We are all children in grown human bodies.
and we are broken and lonely.
but pure.
We are humans and we are all dying.
And we are boiling over,
looking for more.
We are humans with eyes that have rarely been used.
and humans with souls all badly abused.
We are standing above that stranglers reach
and blessing them for the lessons they teach.
So with our blackened eyes and our torn up skin,
with our hollow smiles and faces thin…
With the hand of our god gripping esophagus,
with their fists and their feet raining on top of us.
We may just… lay there.
despite these attacks.
We may just close our eyes
and in smiling stillness
drift
off
to sleep.
And somewhere in that simple stillness
you will begin to actually open your eyes
and you will get off that floor, and stand on your feet, and walk out that door.
And your god will howl and shriek and cower.
As you realize that you
are one with their power.
And you, in smiling stillness,
will have had your eyes opened.
Topics: poetry | Comments Off on Black, I, Mountain.
Comments are closed.