I do not want your respect,
Nor do I care for sympathy,
For at this point in time,
All I can muster is apathy.

I do not care if you stand with me,
For all I need is three.
A couple makes an impact,
But a crowd changes history.

I do not want your mockery
Of the truth, of experience, of pride.
I do not care about your status quo
Or what social ladder you had to climb.

So, the black you wear and the words you recite
Are merely the words of someone else,
So though you may think you are standing,
You have no feelings to be felt.

This fight is simply not yours to win,
For light reveals the Truth,
And according to every moral telling,
The bad guys always lose.

I do not want your signs or pins,
For phrases surely die.
Because honestly, we need climbers,
And the only way up is time.

I do not want your petty posts
Filled with rehearsal and practiced lines.
If you really wanted to make an impact,
Stop creating a shadow and donate your light.

I do not want your constant questioning,
For it sounds as though she’s to blame—
Your investigation compares to abuse.
Would you be more understanding if men and women were ranked the same?

I do not want your selfish pity.
I cringe when I hear your apologies.
I am not looking for someone to listen;
I am searching for a stage to speak.

I do not want your worried guilt.
I do not care that you’ve changed,
For penitence is simply up to you,
But right now, you’re saving your name.

I do not want to be your reassurance.
Forgiveness is merely for me.
Though we have been taught by the same book,
Different from yours, my love is free.

I do not want you stopping our progress,
So, out of respect, move out of our way.
Stop opening your mouth and wasting your breath;
There’s something we want to say.

We want equality and acknowledgement too.
We want a changed world and open minds.
We want to finally remove the glass ceiling.
I want a cause for which I can die.

Sometimes, I think about the envelopes under the bathroom sink
that you thoughtfully put away, to make your ends meet.
I think of the little girl who dug them out,
proudly helping her father to buy another handle.

Sometimes, I think of the papers inside that Nike shoebox,
tucked carefully under your side of the bed, out of sight.
I think of my small self climbing underneath to sift
and finding its stock cut in two at the week's end.

Sometimes, I think of that check that I got for an award
and how you allowed me to keep it, despite your circumstances.
I think of younger you, as if she were myself,
who was suffocating under the weight of a thousand worlds.

Do the trees love the wind,
Or do they hate it
Because it forces them to move?

Do they like the rain,
Or do they hate it
Because it forces them to eat?

Or, do they really love it?
Have they been waiting to dance?
Have they been wanting to drink?

Do they hate their lives
Because all they do is watch?
Or, do they not care
Because they've known nothing else?

Like a weightless, wordless mime,
like a baby bird watching mother fly,
I’ll follow your lead like a dancer,
copy your moves to avoid the red laser.

New to this world and in over my head,
you’ll hold my hand as we walk the thread.
You’ll explain the rules and guide my hand,
as I hold my breath and remember to stand.

Weak in the knees and warm in the heart,
I can’t rush the finish before we even start.
I’ll slow my pace and keep the tempo
and caution what feelings are prone to grow.

And your silence hums like a ringing in my ear.
My hand extended in mid-air
and yours lingering by your side.
Needed you then,
needed the sound,
but away, away, away you went.
Nothing left unsaid,
nothing said at all.
I just meditate on the lifeless air,
and talk myself in circles.