Life is a rehearsal

Life is a rehearsal. 
The future is a puzzle. 
The present is a maze.
Once the world was simple, 
Now it is upside down. 
Nothing like it was before. 
Truly, I don't understand it anymore. 
I am written history. 
Stripped of all hiding behind. 
Back and forth my pen is weaving, 
Erasing the past, rewriting the present.
I am planning to drape the world in newly- minted shreds. 
It is all a stricken landscape. 
The world cannot be rebuilt. So we create a replica. 
With our bloody hands we create an inauthentic world 
Pieced together from the shards of a vanished, 
Once human civilization. 
We glue it together and standing back by the flickering fire, 
We embrace. 
Remember history as if you lived it yourself.
I am rewriting the past. 
With bloody hands I paint a line, a border. 
I am choosing my own colors, creating a rainbow. 
I am split, I cradle one culture, I am sandwiched between two. 
No trail, no footprint, no map, no way home, 
No place to set my feet. 
Where do I go? History. 
I am lost. No excuse, no comfort in the present
If I don't recognize the shards of a broken world, 
The humanity.
I do have bloody hands. They don't wash off. 
They are stained from the red paint 
I drew a border across my identity. 
Tolerance, tell me about it. 
I am rewriting history right now. 
I am rehearsing. The future is a crazy place. 
See you all there!

© Colleen Yorke. All rights reserved. 2020.
All names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this blog are fictitious. No identification with actual persons, places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred. © All rights reserved.