I understand you.
The unlucky, the unwanted, the misfits, the downtrodden. The middles, the lower class, the majority.
I have been the underdog, the stigma, and the less desirable. I have been locked up, and it the lowest, most terrifying depths of despair. I have been locked up for my own safety and yet, screamed and cried for my mother. I am an adult, the grown-up not the terrorized infant, unfamiliar with the land or the language, unable to speak up for myself.
Babies ripped from their mother’s arms.
Who the fuck have we become?
I implore you to question your motives, your indifference, and your lack of empathy.
Do you feel that good about yourself, on the inside?
We have to do better than kids locked in cages.
Devastation runs amok; earth burns hot like angry temperaments and heated arguments.
We are off-kilter, disaster abounds, the homeless discarded, the mentally ill invisible and abandoned like a pair of dirty socks, while babies scream mama in foreign tongues.
How unbearable, how utterly cruel, and how very ugly are we.
I won’t shut my ears or close my eyes.
I won’t be a part of the assholes hoarding dollars, or the bastardized, selfish, fascists.
I’m awake with a heavy heart.
This is not my America; this is not the America I once loved and respected.
These times, these days are the ugliest, angriest and inhumane for a modern society.
The atrocities we are witnessing will be recorded as the lowest depths of humanity.
Should I take a numbing pill or drink the cool aid, blurring ugly party lines?
I will not. I refuse to sugar coat the words so that you might feel less responsible. You can live with your hate, ignorance; continue to call each other names, strutting your feathers of false pride.
Or, you might try something different, something like tolerance.
Me?
I’m going to walk tall, bear the heavy burdens, work the physical, clear the mind, speak the hard truths and take stock.
I’m going to stand honest and erect, with goodness and purpose on my mind, floating under water from time to time.
To recharge, and then continue to fight for what’s morally right.
No one gets a pity pass or escapes tragedy.
Let me bleed, let me scream, let me call out the bullies and injustice.
Let me cry loud love whenever and as often as needed.
When I’ve collected my thoughts at the end of the day and reclaimed my quiet strength, let me carry myself with pride, let me seek out the do-gooders and let me fight for the ones less fortunate than I.
I do not give one fuck about your empty promises, politics, golden egg, or privileged spoon stuck up your ass.
It is a fool’s gold that buries you whole and burns hot.
Let me always choose the kind way to navigate this life.
Let me die with a clear conscience, a citizen of the world and let my travels open my mind to the plights of people just like you and me.
Families and children, human beings clinging to hope, traverse dangerous terrains in the night sacrificing everything, even their lives.
People like you and me who believe a better future is waiting.
America, the greatest nation of all.
How embarrassing.
I am not proud, and you’re not so great after all.
Here we are, the assholes, the one percent playing God and building up walls.
Get out your jackhammers, friends and help your neighbors.
Break down cemented barriers, racism, bigoted, and outdated beliefs that just don’t work anymore.
Walls around the head and heart only bury you deeper underground.

Photo Credit: www.cemillerphotography.com Flickr via Compfight cc

Jacqueline Cioffa

A retired, international model, and celebrity makeup artist. Co-Author of Model Citi Zen, the guide. Founder of http://modelcitizenmakeup.blogspot.com/. Author of numerous prose pieces in various literary magazines. Most recently published in Little Episodes Brainstorms the anthology, among esteemed artists Sadie Frost, Melvin Burgess and Todd Swift.

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