To Be

It drained like a spigot

    refusing to turn off and be silenced

    'cause once the truth shed illumination,

        I was altered, and an exorcism of pious proportion

            leaked onto the palpable pavement

                 in search of freedom.

The spirits moved, coalesced, had their way,

    flooding out of almond eyes: the serum I swallowed

        now straining my brain, an insanity of sheer mass

            screaming to be liberated, allow

            those apparitions the freedom

    to move about, allow the malignancy to be squelched.

        I trust the angels of salvation to hear sweet music -

                "Glory, glory, Hallelujah" -

        to obliterate ancient secrets that obstructed

        fear, allowing it to consume from within.

    Justice would be served, and there was no holding back

                anymore, never again.

The rape of my flesh and of the mind deteriorated, scorched

                in flames, burning a hole

    where the palpable pain boiled and seared, carved

        its name inside my liver and kidneys,

        burrowing like a rodent hoarding nuts

                for the blistering cold.

    Out spilled toxic truths, how the touch betrayed

        children for countless generations,

            how they wept - I wept -

        for the shattered soul that lay in silence,

            frozen in anguish, humiliation,

            now bleeding through my chest,

        onto the floorboards, as a primal shriek

        deserted my chest in a thousand beats

            per second, a cramp forming near

                the ventricule and aorta.

The release, being born again, meant wearing that scar

        until all roads healed, transformed,

        speaking out, unashamed, the rage

    not burying me for the first time in copious generations,

            as my mind permitted an opportunity

                to breathe claret air.

In the distance, i could her an iron symphony of music,

    as it sought pearly spirits, redeeming me, lifting me,

        causing s separation of countless weight,

            to secede and die, finally free.

Redemption has its price - so does cowardice.

            Now, inhaling, I lay in valleys

        filled with peace and mercy,

    allowing bombs to fall by the wayside,

        digging deep to weed those

        cancerous vines that revolted,

            asphyxiated, decimated.

        No longer a victim, I seek to just be.