Promises, Promises
Promising me safety right now is like saying that it is safe
to dance with a black mamba’s mouth wrapped around my wrist.
You cannot promise me safety as the venom courses through my veins.
I will not allow you to clear your conscience for poisoning me.
My heart will cease to beat, perhaps because of this,
and I will not grant you solace for endangering me with the snake’s kiss.
Promising me freedom right now is like saying I am free
while chaining me to a train track as it comes speeding along.
You tainted my freedom when you chained me to the ground.
I will not be there to console you when you realize you are the reason my life ended.
My body will be ravaged and forever broken by the train speeding on,
and I cannot grant you reprieve for my death when I am gone.
Promising me good health now is like saying I will not bleed to death
after you have slit my throat, as the blood pours down my skin.
You stole my health when the knife pierced my skin.
I will not be there to clean up the mess you made with my heart’s blood.
My blood will forever stain your hands and curse whatever it touches,
and I will not remove that curse as the guilt taints all aspects of your life.
The election of Donald Trump as the forty-fifth President of the United States has been a shocking and horrifying thing for people who have not supported him and who will not support him. The lack of acknowledgment of Trump’s hateful rhetoric and what it has inspired by friends and family has left many people, myself included, feeling like we’re drowning and our support system is just sitting there watching it happen. Explaining why his election is upsetting and painful for us is tiring and it breaks my spirit sometimes. I’m disabled and this man has mocked what I go through, then pretended like that never happened. And he’s empowered other politicians, like those in my state’s legislature and like Paul Ryan, to go after Medicaid and Medicare. It feels like we’re marching to our deaths.
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