The Room Where it Happens

By Kendall K

I want to be a part of it, a part of it all, a part of every wasteful whisper

wallowing winsomely within the walls, each sacrificial syllable

soaking in someone’s salvation, I want to be there, don’t you?

Everyone is hungry, not for food but for more than what they have

Failed to realize that nobody can give you everything and everything won’t bring you anybody, so they hope for that fateful day that they can wake up and say

”yeah i was there”

But hope is denial, hope is a lie and a light that never goes out and underneath all the protester’s screams and shouts, they are empty. They are sad about having nobody to be sad for, nobody to long for, so they buildings, churches, trees. And while I was drowning and gasping for air, to be fair you wrapped weights upon my ankles, kept them there like shackles, because when I told you about the dark I was no longer

the light of your life, and through all of my strife, I begin to cry.

These are not the tears of sorrow, they are droplets of joy for I am free, I have gained

freedom from all the times you called me a burden, yet a burden is something

you are forced to carry against your own will, yet you

freely chose to be a part of my life

I’m letting you go, so I can be a part of it, and I don’t

miss you, not one bit