491. Ride

She doesn’t want to ride this ride.

She’s not the right height,

Though no one seems to notice,

That none of this is right.

“Sit down and hold on tight.”

She doesn’t want to ride this ride.

She flies from her seat.

No belt or bar’s safe enough,

To keep her on her feet.

*Claps* “What a lovely treat!”

She doesn’t want to ride this ride.

She’s not the right age.

Her hands, they begin to slip…

Suffering is the wage,

For not fitting the gauge.

She doesn’t want to ride this ride.

She is unable,

To ride without being hurt.

Don’t assign her a table.

She’s more than a label.

She doesn’t want to ride this ride.

She’s not the right height,

And though no one understands,

That this danger’s not trite.

Risking lives should never be alright,…

In the rush to fill seats, and go…

On with your own.

K. Aldaya, 9/15/19

Picture: By: Annie at Unsplash; https://unsplash.com/photos/DurGX0B94mg

481. Speak Not It’s Name

photo-1483706600674-e0c87d3fe85b

“Shhh, you are speaking too loud!”

They say to me: “Hide in the crowd”.

“Oh, for shame, for shame, for shame.

You should not speak or say it’s name.”

They’ll tell you the criminal’s to blame,

Though talking about it is always your shame.

Hide the pain…move on…let go.

The hurt smile better than they’ll ever know.

Talk, but do not talk too much.

Lie to yourself and others, as such…

‘Cause of shame…

…for shame….

……What shame!

The jungles are savage,

Yet they want you tame!

Shhh…Shhh…

……Speak not it’s name.

K. Aldaya, 7/22/19

Picture: By: Kristina Flour on Unsplash; https://unsplash.com/photos/BcjdbyKWquw

447. Much Too High a Cost?

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If I am but a beggar,

And no one will grant me coin,

Am I lost?

Is living, much too high a cost?

If I don’t have the answers,

And no one else does either,

Am I lost?

Is living, much too high a cost?

If I can not find the way,

And there are no directions,

Am I lost?

Is living, much too high a cost?

If I can not find myself,

And no one else will seek me,

Am I lost?

Is living, much too high a cost?

If I can not save myself,

And no one else can save me,

Am I lost?

Tell me do some lives, have much too high a cost?

K. Aldaya, 6/27/18

Picture: By Banksy; https://www.boredpanda.com/social-issues-street-art-bansky-london/

436. “We”

We work in the shadows with an air of civility,

Dropping the pants of a world undisclosed;

Where eyes vilify the skirted and clothed,

For breeding the sins of the overexposed.

We move softly in the shadows eclipsed by “the unsaid”.

With the weight of morality on our backs.

We amend with checks and our very souls,

As we drift namelessly, and fall through the cracks.

We’re the shame and mortification of being alive.

Our breasts, and sex, are man’s nature denied.

Shunned from the sun and logical discourse;

The raw…the real…the gospel lost inside…

Mirrors heedless of reflection.

K. Aldaya, 4/13/18

Picture: http://www.harbus.org/2018/what-women-want/

430. The New and Strange

At first the world didn’t see me,

Then when it finally did.

It shuttered up it’s eyes…

“Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies.”

At first I had no voice at all,

Then when I did, and spoke,

Every ear was covered…

“Sing, bird. Sing, bird.”

At first I thought the world might change,

Then one day I realized.

Change lies in wait within…

“How strange! How strange!”.

K. Aldaya, 3/28/18