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I move my hurtful head and stare forlorn
Over my non-existing boundary,
Where past is seen and future laughs decayed.
Here language is an unwelcome guest,
In stillness awkward, clean environment.
My eyes stay empty, yet insist and glare
Through looks of expectation all around:
“Where are the others, how long did I sleep...
Why can’t I speak, why can’t I move my legs..
Why is my vision dim, hearing askew?
Why can’t I turn my head? Where are my arms?”

A man sits here, I recognize his form:
He sat here yesterday, a week ago;
Last month he spoke, a resonated dream,
His hand on mine, his eyes a kindly blue.
He speaks in words I cannot figure out!
Expressions intimate, yet challenging
For memory and body, still it feels
I’ll understand if only I will try.
He speaks and smiles, his mellifluous voice
Reaches inside where tears are made of salt;
And I reach out for him, he takes my hand.

Today they let him in, my Little One.
He cried impatience loud, I heard his hurt.
He leaped and jumped, so they could not forestall
Him holding me so close in his embrace;
They cannot understand his tenderness
Needs close bodily touch and so does mine…
We used to spend our days in bitter cold
Amidst six more, all trying to survive.
The winters feasting on us in that land,
Bare and barren, forests deep and vile.
Our hearts beating as one kept us alive,
His heart I need in order to survive:
I revel in the glow of his warm shape;
I close my eyes, a fetus in his love

They moved me to a country far away.
The mountains here are high, the glaciers white.
The people speak a language I don’t know,
But languages are easy to be learned.
They’re friendly and not curious which is good,
Because I have no answers, what to say
If someone asks what I am doing here,
Or why I wheel a chair instead of walk,
Or how I come to twitch so strange and tic?
I don’t speak one word they can understand!
Their world is one of beauty, yet I long
For people that I know, companionship.
If I must be alone till end of times,
I’d rather not be here, or anywhere…

If there is something good in this strange world,
Don’t take it away, allow some of it,
Give an example, how do I fit in?
Allow the means to find my value here,
Teach me why waking up was worth a dime,
Why every second here is not in vain.
I will have life, my family, they say,
Is waiting for me, but I can’t believe
They want me back, they once gave me away...
I rather stay with people that are nice...
Make every moment count while I have time.

I have my hands, some paper and a pen.
Today I start to set right what was done
To us, to give us back our pride, so cruel
Taken, so brutally, by evil men
Who thought us nothing but commodities.
Their crimes be judged, these torturers of youth,
Who lust and kill, who do not feel regret,
See other people as their rightful herd….
Their days in court will end in prison time,
More than their days spent on this cruel world.
My hands will talk, my language powerful.
I’ll write and turn my words to prisons strong,
To keep their vile intentions far away.
Our gilded cage will open wide and free.
This is the first day of my life. This is...
Day ME!

***

Bio, written in Iambic Pentameter Blank Verse
March 24, 2017
Copyright © Darren White
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