The moments I feel unsure of what comes next are the moments I'm most conscious of my flesh; crooked feet, creaking knees, bags below eyes. existing. Yearning for God to pull me back; the tension of Purpose turns the broken branch into an arrow. We all yearn to be hurled into usefulness - to fly, and touch hearts. -kco
When I was 9, I watched Superman shoot across powder blue skies, Spiderman swing through urban sprawl choosing - to use powers that made them unique to save people who could never thank them enough, choosing - to sacrifice normal life; Superheroes. I wanted to be them.
Today, America murders then martyrs. Victims become “heroes” for their lives ending in ways they never chose. Then murals, black squares, hashtags, moments of silence, donations, marching on blood-soaked streets. Documented performative healing. I don’t want to be a hero anymore. I’m not 9. -kco.