i put on my sunglasses and the world becomes slightly dimmer,
like someone closed the curtains midsummer.
why would anyone want to shun away the warmth of the sun
in exchange for a feigned night? the day is not yet done.
so you twist the hands on the grandfather clock,
"now is finally the right time," you mock.
so are you saying my actions were untimely,
just because it was of inconvenience to you, your majesty?
you raise your arm to strike me because i am violent,
will hitting me bring you to a state of contentment?
may i point out then, the one who must be chastised,
is the hypocrite of this irony. will you finally realize?
for ones like you who has never experienced excruciating pain,
impossible for you to understand what we are entitled to gain.
and soon you will take those blinding glasses down,
to see the real light on your own.
(c)2004 mai kozai
*inspired by martin luther king, jr.'s letter from birmingham jail
silence is also music. {3:25 AM}
the poet
mai sharona.
december 5, 1984.
davis, california.
a sucker for flowers.
