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    The Moon Rises with Light
    The Moon Rises with Light
    The Moon Rises with Light
    Ebook124 pages44 minutes

    The Moon Rises with Light

    By James Takyi and Asya Blue

    ()

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    About this ebook

    A riveting collection of poetry and quotes that deeply explore the vast spectrum of the human experience. Each poem is told from various points of view that represent sections of our population whose voices get lost in the crowd, or are forgotten altogether.


    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherJames Takyi
    Release dateOct 27, 2020
    ISBN9781735827629
    The Moon Rises with Light

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      Book preview

      The Moon Rises with Light - James Takyi

      The Awakening

      ————

      In the depth of despair

      have hope.

      In the silence of the night,

      keep your dreams alive.

      With the awakening of the sun,

      let fears fade with ablutions.

      I Too Am American

      ————

      I too am American—

      man, woman, human;

      I am no venomous serpent

      whereby keeping neck bound keeps you safe.

      How large is your frustration to carry hate so great?

      A veil of ignorance so thick

      you want to beat me with a stick,

      shoot me with a gun,

      insult with a pun,

      enslave, shun, oppress, suppress.

      What a heavy conflict to carry,

      to know that

      no matter what you do,

      you still see your humanness in me.

      Is that why you are angry?

      You don’t want to let the truth be.

      To know that this mind,

      our minds, speaks and articulates,

      strives and achieves,

      greatness, beauty—

      while some falling prey to similar ignorance,

      identical hate—because the truth is,

      we are not so different.

      We are the interwoven tapestry—

      variety of humanity— all together earthling.

      Truth is truth whether you acknowledge it or not.

      To embrace it is freedom. Cut the cables of labels: Freedom to love and to care, to connect, grow and share,

      to shed the mirage of fear,

      to have the depth of satisfaction that liberates hair,

      blood, bones to mind.

      Be happy, be peaceful, be liberated.

      Breaking Chains

      ————

      The links of time

      interlock their cold, lifeless curves from Mom and Dad,

      son and daughter,

      sister, brother, uncle, aunt—

      recreating toxic wounds and normalized extremes.

      Even after the hurt,

      the mind holds on to the pain—

      in a pause—

      talking opens old wounds,

      so we turn away,

      masking vulnerabilities with defenses,

      absences, and gaps of recollection,

      mines ready to explode with the smell of a scent,

      a sound, a taste, or feeling on the skin.

      Survivors walking with frozen memories,

      internalized enemies.

      Life goes on; every tomorrow melts or hardens the frost. Some take this jumping, kicking bull of fear by the horns and ride it into submission—ride into exhaustion,

      knowing very well that this road is unpredictable,

      rugged, ever-changing.

      This ride demands a tight grip,

      honesty, acceptance, determination, persistence, concentration, perseverance,

      and more importantly,

      kindness for ourselves.

      Color Blind

      ————

      Do you think your existence is more important than mine?

      When you use words of hate to define my race,

      where culture and color are mixed,

      nothing truly different exists,

      and still

      your hate persists,

      yet you wonder why I raise my fist.

      Your words sting, and I cry, but I don’t wish you to die.

      I laugh as you try to pry hate from inside

      because you find at the bottom of this depth

      is where love truly lies,

      inside no disguise.

      Besides, it’s time for our differences to subside

      and for you to see me as someone alive.

      Bully

      ————

      My sanity

      is not lacking without your psychopathic influence.

      Picture yourself in my place, in my shoes,

      and if you can’t, allow me to inflict some pain on you.

      But I won’t.

      So the abuse continues.

      Monday: faggot. Tuesday: whore, queer.

      Queer, that’s what you are, right? Asked the tyrant. Right?

      Subdued and bewildered, I nodded in agreement.

      Oh Friday, why are you so far away?

      Minutes feel like hours.

      Rather than fight back against the enemy,

      the fight is within me.

      They are sharks, and my blood is aromatic.

      At home, the torture plays over and over in my head.

      My heart pounds faster and harder

      with every thought of the abuse.

      I am afraid.

      The anticipation of the next day promotes anxiety

      that causes me to be unable to sleep.

      The walk to the bus stop weighs on me

      as if I carry a crucifix on my back.

      Each bus

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