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These Hands

Hey brother I want to talk to you before you go, I know you’re leaving for good, but before you go I need to speak with you.

Please give me a moment of your time if you would… I know.. I know you need to roll out ..I hear them calling you…but if you could just take a moment to speak with me, see I need to ask you some things, clarify a little, it’ll just take a moment.

I know It seems as if you don’t – a moment can mean an eternity to a determined man.

Why are you still standing?  Take a seat. You look nervous, relax, let me see your hands. Yeah, you know I use to love these hands.

These hands have held me up when relationships and hardships have gotten the better of me. These hands have curled into perfect fists to shelter me and relaxed in comforting me.

These hands have protected me, projected for me, use to text me – to check up on me- to make sure I was okay – you’d wiped my tears away with your very own hands, you were my surrogate man, inside jokes, you broke up fights and mediated madness- alleviate sadness- stood in command- with your very own hands.

Theses hands.

These hands I use to call on with admiration, you were the  architect who oversaw my lifes construction-so tell me

why these very hands were the purveyor of destruction?

Tell me why these hands clasped together in anger and indignation, why these hands once praying five times a day wasted away the life of those these hands held closest? What psychosis inflicted upon these hands which held your own son, took the sunlight from my eyes, and the life light from your wife and her brother-my lover, and why these hands will never hold nor help another.

Tell me why these hands put the finger on the trigger, tell me why these hands  reduced you from a righteous man to a common nigger?

I want to talk to you – I need you to hear me – clearly – you left travesty and pain in your wake, you were my friend who would never take from me, but these hands , these hands that I admired so, these hands that I loved so, these hands that I depended on, took my life apart— twelve bullets for your anger—- one  deadly shot to my heart— and I’m flatlining from pain…

And I know you can’t stay and explain all that’s been lain in bloodstain teardrops and splattered against the walls of a relationship in demise – because by your own hands– you took your own life.

And so even though I know you’ll never be able to clarify I  hope your faith blankets you and if I had an opportunity I would tell you – the hardest thing you left behind…was the ability for me to justify in my own mind –

how I love you and hate you at the exact same time.

Iya Isoke © 1/16/10


About The "SoKey" Experience

Each morning I wake I pour myself into a goblet, slowly inhaling the scent of my own faults, swirling them around the glass, allowing them to breath, then I sip, allowing my own inconsistencies to soak my tongue before swallowing. If I am tipsy from my own frailties - I'm less likely to become drunk on yours. -SoKey (introspection)


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