Poem: Questions

(How am I? Well I wrote between the tears. That counts for something.
It just hurts so much right now.)

Questions

Can you hear me?
when I ask:
what’s the future like?
is the fighting worth it?

Will there ever be a day?
where I don’t fear for my life?
where I can walk around
whether on feet or wheels?

Can you hear me?
When I say
I wish for change
in some meaningful way

Am I asking wrong?
Should I change my words?
Would more people listen
if I went with song instead?

Why is it I must pretend?
Why must I act as if I’m not me?
as if my truth is deemed less than
no matter which truth we’re talking

Can you hear me?
Should I try louder?
Should I hit something?
will you listen then?

It feels as if unless I die
my words are worthless
no matter how loud I get
Will suicide be my rallying cry?

Please don’t mourn for me yet
I deserve nothing like that
my death would offer little
in this world so drained of hope

Can you hear me?
I want to offer hope
I want to say run for those dreams
no matter what they are

yet as much as I want to relay
the truth of the matter is opposite
the first step is make them hear
that we here to stay

Death won’t boost our cause long
It only grants notice
as they offer pleasantries
and pretend they care about us

How can we make those notes last?
How can we drag someone else into the midsts?
How can I make a difference
in these lives I watch exist?

I know so much of the pain
of lying to just survive
to pretend as if I’m one
so that I am not knocked instead

why do I accept the bullying
being forced to deny
how can we accept anything
when life is so much more than survival?

Can you hear our calls?
Can you ignore us now?
Can you continue this charade?
And act like our lives are still worthless?

Hiding as I always was
denied my truth just because
no one ever understood
I won’t suggest they try

but please, more than anything,
my truth should not be a lie
I should not hide; I should not fear
so why do I?

I am not strong enough
On my own
But there are many who understand
far more than I at first suspected

Many who the bullied marked
as wrong or bad or horrible
as if we- none of us-
were allowed to live well

as if we deserved to struggle
As if we could only try
and maybe wisps of hope
would fall upon our lives

no slavemaster will offer up
the freedom we desire
the only way to gain that
is to fight against the master


[Cat Hartliebe’s Poem Books] [Cyro Hartliebe’s Poem Books]
[About Cat Hartliebe] [Poetry Archive]

…. There is a reason I write. I write for acceptance. I write for equality. I write for love. I write for hope. I write for a future where my differences are not seen as a negative. I write for those who are fighting now. I write for those in the future who will hopefully not have to fight.

Why do you write?

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