The following is part of the 2019 May Poetry Feature at C4SS.
I was born defiant from the beginning, religion a brief reprieve and then to my surprise hell for eternity. I saw death, strife, war, disease and power as my enemies, no god ever answered. A Calamity. An early note of peace ran through me, anarchy.
Soon I learned I was hanging fruit, the lowest.
Born into gender roles that were not mine, with a skin color dark brown/black they called it I could not hide. From marches, protests, to petty crime, I was the best anarchist I could be and tried to put in over time.
From the woman of rojava ypj to elzn revolutionary I dreamed, but I struggled to live in society chasing my own survival, homeless, destitute and alone. (maybe i’ll start an ezine?)
But I try, I push, I cry, I resist, but it hard existing in a world where your low hanging fruit you see? But I’ll never give up on people, a destitute anarchist’s guarantee. Because even low hanging can be eaten, used to feed, so I guess I’ll try a ‘lil bit harder; no more being low hanging fruit for me.