A poem by Ricardo Hanley Jr.
She intently scrolled through my phone and deemed every woman a hoe.
I stood silent, knowing exactly how this would go.
I’m not one to pretend nor make an attempt to defend against her imagination,
of which I know, I can never contend.
But, again the insults flew at me, a swarm of stinging bees
but I was immune for a time. Her wild rage grew, as I watched,
she became a slave to her own mind.
The curses and accusations meeting my silence.
Like gasoline poured onto flames violent, a blind fury burning in her brown eyes, now shining crimson and violet.
I did my best to drown her out, with unspoken thoughts, until again,
I was hit in my mouth.
I closed my eyes, seeking the best route I could find, in the stillness of my building anger,
Mama’s voice went ringing through my mind, “Never place your hands on a woman,”
a lesson revealing one side.
I continued searching my depths for the lesson which I could justly apply.
Papa’s voice rang out mentally, “walk away, walk it off,” adhering his potent passive words,
and knowing one wrong move whether justly or unjustly deserved, in a moment all could be lost,
should I cast the second stone, I’ll be nailed to the cross. I disappeared like Christ into the darkness of the night,
with my integrity in tact and problematic phone as my guiding light.
Ricardo Hanley, Jr.
Published in Genre: Urban Arts Second Edition
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