"...they try to control us with their petty facts, they try to force into submission like lifeless puppets, dancing at their will, but we will not submit! we will not go under! we will survive! We will not dance! Forward!"
-Lindsey E.


Identity
by Julio Noboa Polanco

Let them be as flowers,
always watered, fed, guarded, admired
but harness to a pot of dirt.

I’d rather be a tall, ugly weed
Clinging on cliffs, like an eagle
wind-wavering above high, jagged rocks.
To have broken through the surface of stone,
to live, to feel exposed to the madness of
the vast eternal sky.
To be swayed by the breezes of an ancient sea
carrying my soul, my seed,
beyond the mountains of time or into the abyss of the bizarre.

I’d rather be unseen,
and if, then shunned by everyone
then be a pleasant-smelling flower
growing in clusters in the fertile valley
where they’re praised, handled, and plucked
by greedy human hands.

I’d rather smell of musty green stench
than of sweet, fragrant lilac
If I could stand alone, strong and free
I’d rather be a tall, ugly weed.

Copyright Julio Noboa Polanco


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