By Fred Santana
I want to speak about the people dying of cancer,
I want to raise concern for those stigmatized for having HIV,
I want to speak about the soldiers of the body,
The little hope and strength that keeps us moving,
I want to say they are human while acting in the world,
I want to say they are loved while speaking of the word,
They say no greater love can be felt between strangers,
But prove them wrong,
When they offer cruelty,
Serve them with lots of kindness that no man has ever experienced,
When they offer hate,
Shower them with lots of love that no rain droplets has ever met,
I speak of equality,
I speak of no violence,
I speak of 3 arms with the same blood,
I speak of a boy with a father vision, missing a dad,
I would love to see the love you give to me,
Equated to my brother on clutches
The approach you gave her to be similar to the one with patches,
The conversation you enjoy to be between the deaf and dumb,
I yearn to smile,
With my heart served full on a cup,
I want to cry seeing the dead beings smile with their character in coffins,
Diseases no longer scare them anymore,
The weak genes on week jeans,
It’s the seventh time they used this line trying to suggest poor and ugly,
I don’t know for how long they have been rehearsing for this,
I don’t know for how long you are going to keep up with this,
A world of poor minds with rich ideas stuck on a skull that no longer protects the brains,
I have been writing this for a week now,
I have been struggling with this for a year now,
Escaping from the eyes of the majority is like a lifetime sentence,
In a prison where the innocent face suffer the most,
I have been scared to speak up even while looking down,
I have been scared to rise up even after falling down,
How I wish that one day they shall appreciate the weight of my voice,
The intonation and the rhythm of my vocal cords as I share my views,
Countless times they said,
Countless times I listened,
Countless times I have been in the same position in different places,
Countless time I had this thought,
What makes me good enough?
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