Would I miss you?

If I put my feet in the sand, would I miss you?

If I held another's hand, would I miss you?

If I cuddled up in bed with one not as familiar as you,

would I miss you?

That moment upon awakening when familiarity is expected but is not there,

would I miss you?

Can I remember what brings me joy in the middle of this insane world?

Do I deserve to continue on?

To take the tiniest of steps forward.

The softest of breaths.

Can I continue on when there is so much wreckage?

Do I deserve love from my own sweet hands?

Can I feel joy when babies are being thrown into a fire

by their sweet unsuspecting parents?

Do you feel the need to tell me I feel too much when all this destruction is in our midsts?

Do you feel the need to take a woman's rage from her because this is what you were taught to believe, that she was undeserving to fully feel?

How is this any different from the fallacies other's believe?

He told me once, 'you do not need to prove yourself to anyone.'

And yet I always forget, I always forget.

My gentle words will not change your mind.

My yells or screams or tears will not touch your heart.

This is no different than what another believes.

Yet we bang our heads against locked doors and hearts, expecting not to bleed.

And put another down for not being able to understand.

While babies are thrown into the fire.

I do not write because simple things do not move me.

I write because they do.

I write to find myself again, because I am standing in the ashes from another's flames who called them mine.