Morgan Jennings

MY COUNTRY BURNS, AND I MUST MOVE QUICKLY TO SPARE THE SOLES OF MY FEET:

I spent five years drinking sand to silence myself- to muffle the heat that roared incurably within me. It turned to glass in my throat. It became embedded in my flesh and I have tried to pull it out piece by piece, coughing up blood all the way.
The first time I spoke in its absence felt like singing.
No more sand
No more glass
No more blood
Freedom aches like growing pains, I fear my future lies beyond a wall that needn’t be there. But I climb. I inch closer to the top and once I curl my bruised fingers over the edge of the brick, I look down to see the ground on the other side is on fire.
No more tr*nnies
No more commies
No more f*ggots
I laugh at its absurdity, but the rising heat makes my eyes water and turns my skin pink. How thickly freedom sprawls at the feet of those who have never known captivity. They forget the meaning of the word. They stand on mountains of it, safe from the fires they have set. All of my sickness be damned; the only answer is to run and hope there will be some reprieve.
My country burns, and I must move quickly to spare the soles of my feet.