arrow

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.

--

--