Our History and Tradition
Sometimes,
I sit and stare
and realize
how insane
I sound.
Sometimes,
I ponder and wonder
and it dawns on me
how normal it is
to feel this way.
It isn’t right,
necessarily,
but I know there are others…breathing silently…in and out, in and out…like the beat of a heart…
because that’s all one can do in this mystery pain.
I know there are others
who dream of swallowing
the moon and the stars and growing a whole tree out through their mouths, plump with ripe fruit,
yet they are forced to swallow
this dry pill,
as if they are sick.
I know there are others
being told that they are
hysterical…or reactionary or aggressive or emotional,
and “it’s just what happens,”
“you’ll be alright,”
and “boys will be boys,”
or “lie down and all will be fine!”
Oh, tell me, please, is anyone else weary of lying?
And they feed us the smiles, the pills,
the chocolates, and the flowers,
as if we are their little,
deranged children,
fragile with tears
and a hot, heady magma of fear.
And they feed us until we are fat
and docile as cows, grazing on their lies,
and in our quiet,
we sit and stare
and realize
how insane this shit is.
Then, oh, then we begin to bray, kicking until the next pill,
until we forget with the hope of remembering again.
That is our history and tradition.
Katie Penna is a freshman at SUNY Geneseo studying English literature and music performance. She has been published previously in Gandy Dancer and currently serves on the E-Board of Geneseo’s Creative Writing Club, where she continues to improve her craft.