future human,
if you are
reading this,
present human,
from where i am
trapped,
from where i
live,
present human
is still
infantilized by fear.
present human
is still mired
in uncertainty.
present human
is still disfigured
by terror.
future human,
do you exist?
did we,
present human,
grow into you?
present human,
is mentally
flaccid.
present human
is spiritually
impotent.
present human
is weak
and shaking.
present human
tries to appear
big,
to hide
smallness
inside.
big bodies.
big beards.
big voices.
big trucks.
big money.
big guns.
present human
is often
in inverse;
bigger,
the outward
appearance,
smaller,
on the inside.
present human,
like a child,
hides its face
behind hands
and thinks
whole body is
invisible.
future human,
are you
peaceful?
future human,
are you
kind?
future human,
do you allow
for your whole
humanness?
present human
has not learned
how to be
fully human.
present human
feels fear
and projects
anger.
present human
feels powerless
and projects
violence.
present human
feels sadness
and projects
intolerance.
present human
is afraid
of things that are not
pre-digested,
afraid
of things that appear
different or
new.
present human
relies on
well-trod paths,
to help them
account for
their poor vision.
future human,
has your sight
improved?
future human,
are your men
still cowards?
future human,
are your men
still frail?
future human,
near everything
i’ve said to you,
near every time
i’ve said
“present human”,
what i’ve meant,
who i am
speaking of, are,
“present men”.
present women
tend to be
powerful,
which terrifies
our cowardly
present men.
present women
tend to be
peaceful,
which cripples
our frail
present men,
makes them clamor
for control.
i believe
the mind to be
malleable,
future human,
the mind to be
clay.
i try to take
images
that make me feel
powerless
and make me feel
fear
and make me feel
disgust,
violence,
rage,
i try to take
these images
in my mind
made of clay,
and hold them there.
and then take
images
that bring to me
comfort,
future human,
images
that bring to me
peace.
brings to me
joy,
future human,
bring to me
space.
i hold these
images,
too,
future human,
in my mind
made of clay.
i hold these
images, and
i press them
together,
mold them
together,
let them form
together,
again as one.
future human,
forgive me,
i am a
present human
and my
malleable mind
is still forming.
but,
future human,
i mold my
mind
with these images
of weed and
of flower,
of disgust and
of delight,
and i watch
as the space
inside me
grows.
watch as
the violence
inside me
diminishes.
watch as
the peace
inside me
takes shape.
future human,
perhaps
i have gotten this
wrong.
maybe we are
imprisoned
by our genetics
and chained
by our culture.
maybe the mind
is made of
wood,
made of
stone.
but,
future human,
aren’t wood
and stone,
even,
aren’t they malleable,
too?
don’t they
change shape,
too?
future human,
do you exist?
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