An Overpopulated Dream

An Overpopulated Dream

(“Be on your guard, stand firm in the faith, be courageous, be strong.” 1 Corinthians 16:13)

I will not be ignored, unseen,
unheeded.
I know you say you did not recognize me,
I know you talked about your children like
they were captives of evil.
I feel the faint vibrations, the thinnest veneer of
unsubstantiated claims to greatness.
And all I want is to be heard a
time or two times more.
I will not be passed by, compassed by
the blind eye you never turn my way.
I know you have forgotten me,
but I still see your face every other night
staring back at me in my dreams.
How can my sleep be so well inhabited when my
waking is so desolate?
I grew weary a long time ago,
and now weight of years has touched my hip,
made me limp,
and wonder where all the goodwill went.

I pulled up outside your door, but you don’t live there anymore.
I confessed everything, and sorely afraid you could see through it all,
I confessed twice to be sure I had covered it all.
And you never stumbled. You never cried.
You never needed forgiveness, did you?
You were methodical in dismantling me.
And I, squeaking machine already, nearly died
of pale fright in front of a plate of spaghetti.
No, I don’t eat much when I’m under the knife.
I don’t eat much when you magnify my whispers to
everyone else in the restaurant.

I will be heard. And I’m sure you will hint,
or state strongly once I am gone,
that the root of bitterness is strong in me.
And I believed I deserved it all.

But no more. Not today. You have harmed me
with your holiness. You have cut me deep with your
satiny shards.

I will be seen, even the bloodied me. I will let
every word of failure be plainly spoken once you
open
your own life to my investigation.