Don't Ask. Don't Tell.
It seemed as if my words came out of my mouth like bullets when I told them;
I didn’t exactly mean to pull the trigger.
At least they were a little more composed this time than the time I told them I liked girls.
First they had to picture their daughter holding hands with another girl.
Now they had to try and picture her in a uniform with a gun in hand
staring down the face of death.
“Where the fuck did this come from?”
He drops his fork on his plate,
Not caring that the mashed beans on his dish
have begun to completely consume the whole utensil.
“I don’t know…I’ve just been thinking about it lately.”
My younger brother watches me from across the table –
Again becoming a bystander
to yet another one of my personal conversations.
“It’s not a life for you.
You can admire those who sacrifice,
But it’s a whole different thing
To become the one that does sacrificing.”
Before I’m ready to reply,
I’m shot down by my father:
“There’s no turning back once you go.
You give them at least
10 years of your life.”
Again, I aim to counter –
But then my mother drops the bomb:
“You couldn’t do it. You’re a liberal,” she says.
There she goes again with her labels.
Stop trying to categorize me.
But I know…
It goes against everything I believe in.
I’ve confused myself.
I guess the reason behind my mentioning of this topic was to
indirectly
Ask for your guidance to help me
See through the smoke of this situation.
I’m not asking you to point in the direction I should go,
I’m asking you to help me figure out why I’m walking
In the first place.
Their eyes are aflame,
Burning through me.
As if my mentioning of this topic
Has brought on some curse upon the family.
I’ve lost my appetite,
But it seems as if everyone else has forgotten
About the food in front of them anyway.
My mother studies me for one final moment
Before unleashing the most
flammable question
Of the evening:
“What reason could you possibly have for going?”
I bite my tongue and let the silence answer.
The stillness of the air rings in my ears as my heartbeat crawls its way up into my head.
The room is quiet,
But in my mind I’m practically screaming.
I don’t have to have a reason to go.
I just can’t find any reason to stay.
I didn’t exactly mean to pull the trigger.
At least they were a little more composed this time than the time I told them I liked girls.
First they had to picture their daughter holding hands with another girl.
Now they had to try and picture her in a uniform with a gun in hand
staring down the face of death.
“Where the fuck did this come from?”
He drops his fork on his plate,
Not caring that the mashed beans on his dish
have begun to completely consume the whole utensil.
“I don’t know…I’ve just been thinking about it lately.”
My younger brother watches me from across the table –
Again becoming a bystander
to yet another one of my personal conversations.
“It’s not a life for you.
You can admire those who sacrifice,
But it’s a whole different thing
To become the one that does sacrificing.”
Before I’m ready to reply,
I’m shot down by my father:
“There’s no turning back once you go.
You give them at least
10 years of your life.”
Again, I aim to counter –
But then my mother drops the bomb:
“You couldn’t do it. You’re a liberal,” she says.
There she goes again with her labels.
Stop trying to categorize me.
But I know…
It goes against everything I believe in.
I’ve confused myself.
I guess the reason behind my mentioning of this topic was to
indirectly
Ask for your guidance to help me
See through the smoke of this situation.
I’m not asking you to point in the direction I should go,
I’m asking you to help me figure out why I’m walking
In the first place.
Their eyes are aflame,
Burning through me.
As if my mentioning of this topic
Has brought on some curse upon the family.
I’ve lost my appetite,
But it seems as if everyone else has forgotten
About the food in front of them anyway.
My mother studies me for one final moment
Before unleashing the most
flammable question
Of the evening:
“What reason could you possibly have for going?”
I bite my tongue and let the silence answer.
The stillness of the air rings in my ears as my heartbeat crawls its way up into my head.
The room is quiet,
But in my mind I’m practically screaming.
I don’t have to have a reason to go.
I just can’t find any reason to stay.