The weight of a poem...

   If you've been reading my blog for a while, you might know that I write poetry, or at least, I used too. I've never been one for rhyming couplets or following specific rules. Honestly, poetry has saved me more times than I can count in both a literal and a figurative sense. I've battled with anxiety and depression my whole life, and discovered the healing power of poetry as teenager in high school. Poetry is one of the more underappreciated forms of writing because it is so often misunderstood. To be truthful, I had no intention of writing a blog about poetry today. I've been struggling a lot with coming up with the right words to say about everything I've been feeling during this time of momentous  change and unrest in our country. That's why I took a break from blogging last week. But here I am, at the keyboard today, and all I can think about is poetry. I'm not sure why I stopped writing, but today my heart and my soul are full and heavy and a poem is clawing it's way out.
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The weight of the world crashing down like a tidal wave,
threatening to drown us out at sea.
So many voices screaming, crying, demanding to be heard.
No more silence, no more pushing it down and down and down
like a good girl.
No more smile pretty and close your eyes and pretend you
don't hear the monsters clawing at the door.
This is the new revolution, are you surprised?
Oh, pretty girl, you've been so naive and sheltered
ate up the lies with a gilded spoon -
But now you spit it out choking on the injustice.
How could you be so blind, blind, blind?
Welcome to the real world, time to adjust your eyes
to the harsh glare of the sun and the truth 
the way the world really looks with that tattered blind fold off.
There's no going back, no unseeing what you've seen.
Now is the time to listen listen listen
to all those voices.
It is time to rise up and be the change.