Inflected Pains
Big world, are we still friends?
You act from a distance, although I have already forgiven you for the scarred tissue you caused.
Leaving me to mend what you broke,
Friends would not wish bad on one another,
But you insist on leaving me in the rearview mirror next to the grim reaper,
foreshadowing all my mortal flaws,
which will be unraveled the day I become dust in the hourglass with the rest of the souls lost between heaven and hell.
I did not need your help to showcase this image.
The day I was born,
I understood the meaning of my wrinkles forming behind crescents of night and the mirages of day.
I know what I am.
Big world, why use your power to stop my truths from being discovered?
Antiquities of my bloodline remain in the wind,
still in the hands of my great-great-grandfather’s enslaver.
Big world,
may you show me a little grace?