OPEN MINDED

People like you

I look at you and see privilege.You have had so much, yet you admit to have nothing.

You look at me and ask, "Why do these black people come and rape our wives?"And you say that with an n, to reinforce the doubt.I would tell you that people like you have done it before they did it.I would explain to you that people like you have conquered, beaten, battered, raped their peoples. I would say they did not have privileges like you had.But I keep quiet.

You look at me and ask, "Why don't they buy some decent clothes?"And the disgusted look squares the slender, dazed body scrambling through a society of outcasts and loners.I would tell you that he cannot, that he works two jobs, that his parents did not want him because he is gay.I would explain you that he hadn't a daddy who spoiled him like you had.I would say that she mothered the siblings.I would tell you that they did not have privileges like you had.But I keep quiet.

You look at me and ask, "Do you think she uses that as an excuse?"And you tell me with the naive meanness that became your hallmarks.I would tell you that she is at home under the covers hoping that the voices in her head will stop talking.I would explain you that he fights against a mass that eats organs from within.I would say that life gets harder when you fight to get it back.I would tell you that they did not have the privileges like you had.But I keep quiet.

You look at me and ask, "Do you know that it happens to men too, right?"And you keep asking me questions I can't answer because you shut my mouth.I would touch my body shapes, stand naked in front of you, and ask you the color of my eyes.I would ask you if you could recognize my look and my spirit in the midst of breasts bigger than mine.I would like to sew your mouth because people like you have sewn my helpless compatriots' thinner lips.

I tell you that I'm proud to bite your palm as you plumb my vocal cords, as you take my voice away.I tell you the glory I feel when you clip my wings with your arms, but my feathers explode in a flight that cuts your skin, your limbs; that tears away your strength.

You look at me and ask, one last time, "Can't I speak my mind?"

I tell you that I am sorry for your pains.

I am sorry and I feel mercy for you.Because people like me will always understand people like you.After all  you have done, people like me still believe that goodness is right inside of you.After the mistakes some of us made, people like you condemn us to a slow, lonely, loveless death.People like me will listen to you and try to embrace you without robbing you of your fortunes.But people like you, will never understand people like me.