EASY IS HARD

Ask the ancestors.

Women don’t come cheap, food doesn’t come because you planted and war doesn’t seek permission.

There’s always a provocation, something leading to something that led to something.

Perhaps it was the sway of hips along well-worn paths, perhaps it was the offerings of bent backs and worn fingers, perhaps it was conquest and gloating and bloodlust.

Easy is hard.

Think of it as this: schooling to get a job, is easy-peasy.

Nobody mentions headaches and migraines and ulcers and near blindness, nobody refers to bullies, small and great, evil wrapped in shining light and innocuous-looking hatred.

No one says these things,

experience tells the best stories.

Easy is hard.

your heart is in your mouth, and then she says yes. Milestones crossed, hurdles surmounted, barrenness hits the jackpot!

One, two, three, forever is nowhere in sight, you have been told a lie.

Try this, try that.

Guinea pigs in progress.

No one says this,

colors and highlights and photos are most important.

Whew.

Easy is hard.

Accolades and praise and honorifics for the melding of words into seductive language.

Nobody sees the scars, the tears, the fear, the torn manuscripts.

Nobody echoes the pain of rejection, the sickening incense of doubt, and the blindness of stereotyping.

Glory, glory, glory, we acclaim!

Easy is hard, boo.

Polish makes the world go round.

The End.

I wrote this in transit, from inside Keke to inside a bank that has red in its logo.

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