no one wants to hear
the struggles of a grown black woman;
who raised herself too fast-
for survival
and learned too little
to do no more than exist as an adult.
people would rather hold me accountable for knowing
but they are more forgiving
than i am
impatiently
raising my own grown self,
frustrated and discouraged
considering all the opportunities missed
trying to keep my head up, ears and eyes open
for the next one.
feels like hitchhiking
near a prison
on a rural road.
possible titles:
1. depending on the kindness of strangers
2. from nowhere to here, waiting
Filed under:
Free-write,
Poem Tagged:
black woman,
meditation,
nik nicholson,
poetry,
Queen of Non sequitur,
writing
Published on March 22, 2015 16:37