Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
William Stanford Apr 2011
Most days, I am still a human being
Complete with a growing body
A growing mind
And two left feet

Most days, if feels like a good fit
I have learned to use these legs
To take purposeful steps,
Long and leading

Sometimes, I fall flat on my face with flair
For me, to be human is to be clumsy
But it also learning how to make peace

Walking down the street
I count the pairs of eyes that turn to meet mine
And see that they are few and far between
To be human is to be afraid of other humans

And that reality has never sat well in my stomach,
It aches anvils in the bottom of my belly
Bends bright light into muted hues
Happiness is reaching

But my arms are long limbs
And growing all the time

At the ends are these hands;
Meant to hammer or to hold
Being human begs a balance
But the scale tips too often
And our fingers close to clench

Letting go is never easy
But I have learned that breaking
Never brings resolution

Too many humans have never learned that truth
They don’t see that no one’s temple was built to conquer
Anger is a heavy load that no back was meant to bear
And that an empty hand was made for waving
But when holding a gun, it gains new meaning
And bullets weren’t forged to give good greetings
Our bodies were never built to be bombs.
And they would know that if they listened
To their own hearts just beating,
More times in a single day than all the hateful words
I could ever think to say.

And I admit my own mind wasn’t created
To comprehend codes or complex mathematics
But I am blessed with an understanding of basic equations:

One ear plus one ear means that I should always be listening
Add 28 teeth, a tongue plus a voice and there is never a reason for me
Not to say how I’m feeling
Two lips plus two lips
Sometimes equals a kiss
And when it doesn’t,
X amount of sadness plus
Y number of friends means no one ever has to truly be alone

Being human can be beautiful if you don’t let it break you.
Even when it does

Most days I am human
But there are mornings I wake up
Feeling like so much less
On the days when my genetics take the turn to depression
And simple mathematics feels too complex to comprehend,
Even on these days, I can defer
To the most basic lesson in anatomy;

Our bodies are not accidents
We have been put together perfectly
To perpetuate existence peacefully as possible

And all the pieces have already fallen into place
All that is left
Is to live.
William Stanford Apr 2011
When it all got to be a bit too much
I reasoned my way into a corner
Sat there silent
Stapled my bottom lip to my convictions
And called it poetry

We all pretend to have ways to cope
Write a poem
Pretense and prophetic anthems
Some say it better than this
It’s harder with through staples
I didn’t know how to pull them out

So I learned to drive
Pressed mute minutes into the pavement
Pulled prayers from the asphalt
It’s all I was good at
Taking long steps

On the last night I lived there,
I stood on my mother’s front porch
Holding everything I was in one hand
Everything I could have been in the other
And clenched my fists like a fighter
Denied the daylight
Spit in the face of the night
Drowned expectations in the dawn

Counted 148 bricks between the front step and the streetlight
Illuminating 4 wheels and one way out
Kissed each brick with my boot heel
Packed my belongings in the backseat
And my longings in the bags beneath my eyes
Put pedal to promise
Peeled out and pretended
That we all run away

When it all got to be too much
I bit rubber into ground
And wrote myself a letter saying:

“Someday, kid,
Someday you’ll be found.”

— The End —