History is like a mistress
She comes in thick like a fog
and shrouded by clouds
She wraps her arms around us
and whispers something like,
Don’t think, just do what you’re told.
history is heavy,
and it weighs me down
with expectations.
expectations from mySelf
and my family,
at times even from
my country and society.
History is burdensome,
as i feel obligated to
return to habits formed.
formed under moonless nights
shrouded by clouds,
ignorant and happy
sustained by feeling.
History is reflexive,
before you know it, you’ve done it again.
and again and again.
History is comforting and familiar,
like morning breath, or the combination
of a particular conditioner and her hair.
history is like sharing a coke,
or warm apple pie
sitting on the windowsill of antiquity.
history is not the ledge,
it is not the forest of mystery
history is the killer
of spontaneity and creativity.
If we want to be free
we have to find a way
to make peace with our history.
We can’t just keep preaching
individuality. to make pieces of the whole,
fractured further into an identity
but somehow we still feel alone,
we’re owned by feelings
and the corporations know it
it doesn’t matter how you identify
there’s a cross section waiting with
arms wide open to take you in,
and someone on the other side
saying it’s a sin. we’re as unique as
our parents, that’s about as far as it goes
so before we get caught up
in the idea of individuality
we should ask ourselves
what is it we’re willing to pay.
Because Coke wants a piece,
and Disney, and Fox,
Google, and Facebook,
even Jack in the Box.
so if we’re not careful
they’ll own us too,
in fact they probably already do.
Leave a Reply