I See You. Do You See Me?

I see you: those of you hunched by the weight of 1000 generations, ancestors squabbling atop of your small shoulder blades.

I see you: those of you who inherited the ugly heirloom that no one wants

But that keeps changing hands.

I see you finding the spiderwebs

And gently relocating their masters

in a cup

(Because you’ve seen violence; not despite).

You come from 1000 generations of pain!

Don’t forget that. Their bones are your bones.

Their shadows are sewn to your spine like wings.

Their bones are your bones but

You did not inherit their blindness.

For the first time in thousands of years,

YOU stood up

YOU said HEY!

I’m not passing this pain on anymore.

I will hold it like a hot coal myself, if I must.

As long as my children don’t have to.

It’s going to feel raw and unfair and I’m not passing this pain on

Anymore.

This may be the hill I die on.