The Weight of Simple Questions — National Poetry Month
365 Day Subway Poems reveals a celebratory fact: we are all poets. Here is a recent poem that is exquisite. Thank you, Shapel M. Now, go read many other poems (on Facebook or on the Web) — perhaps it will inspire you to write your own.
The Weight of Simple Questions
the weight of simple questions or the dark star gravity of tiny hands is enough to choke on, and beat back the burn in your eyes. To be black is to consider the untimely death of your children.
There is no language for why a life matters. It’s logic is warmth, The way one hand can curl and leaf blindly around another a brown finger stuck in a bramble of hair, eyes, laughter, squeezing the ribs, Hurt so thick it makes the day slow and heavy and wordless.
What does it cost me to explain my life to you? To find acquittal For my breathing? To plead for water? To question the nature of my love, and pain and hope to better answer your own?
What should it cost when we pay in children? In years?
Simple questions. Tiny hands, enough to
choke on, and beat, back the burn in your eyes and sometimes find yourself silent and shaking.