Know Me
But you’ll never understand…
I have been understood my whole life.
When I missed the mark,
others jumped in to fill in the meaning.
I stood there open while you threw
interpretation at me and missed.
The splatter struck my knees,
and I crumpled.
Lying in the dirt,
the small peddles dented my palms.
Red scratches brightened my skin,
soaking up the bits of debris.
That’s what your understanding is.
It’s gouging your curses into me.
Your knowledge is from the tea leaf readings
of the bruises scattered across my open skin.
I thought you were right because you talked so much
and argued me to me.
But bruises heal.
The dark purples of your jabs faded to muddled greens.
I finally saw the river’s channels
woven through the forest,
connecting my ecosystem.
So, don’t say you understand me.
You don’t and cannot.
I am not a theoretical equation for you to solve.
No…
