Hope
On seeing the truth of it
The soldiers of the patriarchy
are panicked and weak,
carrying their automatic ejaculatory
death machines into our Capitols.
Self-congratulatory sentiment
all around for invading the halls
they built to keep us down
to tell the world they are
too manly to wear a mask.
They will not be controlled
as a woman waits for seven days
to control her own body.
They will be heard
as a black man dies
while saying the words
“I can’t breathe”
to the white police officer
with a gun.
And yet I still have hope,
because I see the fear
behind the bravado.
I see the implosion of their world
happening in slow motion.
They don’t show up screaming in faces
with guns because they feel secure.
Their foothold is tenuous
and they feel it.
Teargassing citizens is not
an act of bravery,
but sitting in protest
channeling love
while being gassed is.
They witness such bravery
and become even more afraid.
“The only good Democrat is a dead Democrat.”
Carve that into your marble statue,
Cowboy, in homage to your fear.
Words celebrated by obsolete masters
with a side arm and a microphone.
“…pick your poison:
you either go before a firing squad,
or you get the end of a rope.”
Pronouncements from the
delicate patriarchal soldiers,
Presidentially amplified.
And yet I still have hope,
because wrapping your fear
in an American flag won’t save
your system built on hate.
Over 100,000 Americans
have died of a virus on
the altar of
anti-intellectualism
and ignorance
while the high priest of hambErgers
golfs and tweets
demanding journalists
don’t deserve their Nobles.
And yet I still have hope,
because while the spotlight
has been diverted to the swamp
drained only of wisdom,
scientists save our lives
despite the rampant whining
of the maskless empty-eyes
with a fresh haircut
or that perfect pandemic manicure.
And yet I still have hope,
because women leaders
around the world,
took centerstage with
calm presence,
scientific facts,
and a plan
while in America
the plan for “the hoax” was
“one day it’s like a miracle, it will disappear.”
Doctors don’t prescribe miracles.
Waiting for miracles is not the American way.
And yet I still have hope,
because although it is difficult to discern
as we are distracted
by the death throes of vestiges
of a system created to benefit
those have always been considered
a WHOLE man in each others eyes,
those invisible to those patriarchal soldiers
have woven an interminable matrix of love,
collaborative,
powerful in inclusion,
sustainable in honoring Mother Earth,
humble in the quest for knowledge,
creative in the love for one another,
and alas still for you, terrified patriarchal soldier.
And yet I still have hope,
because the matriarchy knows
we all breathe the same air.
This network of patience, love, and wisdom
will never seek the retribution
your dying system thrived on.
The emotional physics
of selfishness and contraction
assures that your smash and grab
entitlement toward women and Mother Earth
is perishing under its own dynamics,
and your obsolete ways of life with it.
Embodying love
amidst hate can feel futile
during certain snapshots of time,
and yet I still have hope,
because in the longer now
love always wins.
~kahh
*This article was originally posted on Medium on May 29, 2020.
