Courage and strength in the midst of her fear
Disguises her feelings, though she woke up in tears
Uneven, rocky and rough her journey will be
Winding and long her roads are temporarily
She’s confused of the thoughts that even the toughest will tire
That the strongest will be weak and the happiest will cry

She has begun to find doubts on how far she could go
She started to get scared if she would be able to go through
There were minutes of choosing to stop and finally give up
But still she thought of how long did she hold on and how she has battled so tough
Then she thought of how God has led her way and guided her journey
Showing her unshaken smile, she stood up again and began her odyssey.

Yes, I wear a mask
Woven of fabric of falsity
Now drenched in agony
The mask of grief, pain and fear
But my calm face says “I’m fine!”

You wore camouflage
I was in neon blue
You set your sights on me
But I couldn't see you
You took one shot
And then served me on a platter
You had me all to yourself
It's like I didn't matter
Is that all I am?
Just a piece of meat
Is that all I am?
Now obsolete

Dear Amelia,
It's different; everything
I’m so sorry
I can't see you anymore
I’m afraid
I can only see the squalor
My face has changed
with lines of age
And carved with lines of ink
While the cross I wear
Proves me a sinner
A single tear
Convicts me a murderer
But I am safe now behind the razor wire
A lifetime of safety… without parole
Sounds like something I’d trade
For a small red balloon
A syringe and a spoon
Are you eating?
Are you sleeping?
Are you walking yet?
Are you dreaming?
If you close your eyes
You can see me the way I used to be
But if you open them
I become a lachrymose monster
So dearest Amelia
Close your eyes

When in nature,
chameleons will alter their original form,
in order to survive.

If you placed her next to those miraculous creatures,
she would put their shape shifting to shame.

For as long as she could remember,
she camouflaged her colors so she could survive.

She bended and molded to be
whatever people wanted her to be.

The problem with this is,
after the threat has gone,
chameleons will once again return to their truest form.

But for her it's always survival of the fittest.
And if you asked her,
She wouldn't know which colors,
truly belonged to her,
Anymore.

The last two days have been hard
I failed again
to tell you who I am

The third time now
I don't want this
I want to tell you

but no matter how hard I try
it's only camoflaged words
that come out of me

and you don't see the message

Mimesis:  
the deliberate imitation of the behavior of one group of people by another as a factor in social change.*


Somewhere, someone
knows these  colors to be home.
Not only the sandy complexion of the boots,
but the laces slipping and sliding
into loops and over
soft tongues and slowly pulling,
constricting, suffocating.
Even its shape—
the shallow curve of a man’s ankle,
the slow descent to the tips of his toes—
these are the sandy silhouettes and generous hills
recalled from their youth.

Someone, somewhere
admires jagged peaks of pale crested mountains.
The same jagged peaks
they have seen rising and breaking
in the wrinkles of loose fitting fatigues,
and complimented by vests,
spotted with the gentle green pastures
once ruled by their jidd’s sheep.

There are chains of mountains
as wide as chests under Mandarin collars
and just as full of pockets and pouches
as military issued BDU’s—

but this is cheap imitation.
It is a failed mimesis.

Life is so fragile I could cry,
But I never tell you how I felt,
What if the feelings just don't make sense?

But I get a feeling like I'm camouflaged,
Fortress around my heart.

I don't wanna say goodbye,
But I have to catch my ride.