Erode

If I called would you answer?

Would you pick up the phone and ask;

“What can I do to help you?”

Or will you tell me a story about yourself?

If I gave you my silence would you be happy?

If I broke my back and my tongue for you?

If I said I was unhappy what would you tell me?

I often wondered what would you do.

Cause lately I've done a lot of thinking. 

About the past that was you and me.

Well mostly it was a lot of you, dear,

And little space to exist as me.

So many years to not exist in.

So many times I made sure I was erased.

So many ways to be unhappy. 

So much I compartmentalised away

I won't call and I won't answer.

I won't pick up because I don't need to know

How life has been treating you.

I am healing the me you tried to erode.

Past

We always want more time.

A repeat of a history where it didn't run out.

Like family dinners or vacations 

When we felt unbothered and loud.

We are always left with things undone.

All we can feel is that void.

Everything we wish we said on repeat.

Memories that only us now hold.

The past is becoming stories only I now tell.

I am so afraid that I won't tell them well.

Look away

It's easy to claim you don't see it,

To keep painting your world as idyllic,

To see your friend as all harmless

Your enemies and hate remain separate.

This way the pain becomes nothing 

That you need to reflect on.

Your conscience cleared from wrong doing. 

The earth righted so it keeps spinning.

If I don't speak up that's the issue.

If I use my voice it's too loud,

You want me to leave it festering,

Let me deal with the fall out.

Cause it feels like not your hurdle

Just a bridge that I now burned.

My name made things curdle. 

Doesn't matter if I am hurt.

It's easier to tell me that I'm a problem,

Then to see what I say.

The only action you now have to take,

Is to push me away.

Tell me I am too demanding,

Tell me I am too harsh.

It's the best way to ignore

The breaking of my heart.

Isn't the truth of the matter this?

You don't want to hear the truth or any of it.

You don't want to know what is wrong.

So you can continue on.

The way I always run my mouth

To the sound of an applause

When the spotlight is ways away 

Of being shone on their face,

Feels in hindsight hypocritical, 

The way my sermon is seen as spiritual

Until I call out your name.

Then I'm the one to blame.

Gaza is nog niet vrij

Ze verwachten blikken 

Naar de hemel of de grond

Maar niet richting de aarde 

Of gefocussed op de ruines.

En dat we door gaan met onze levens.

En dat iedereen denkt dat het over is,

Dat deze tijd begon 2 jaar terug 

En enkel maar tijdelijk was.

Achter gesloten deuren

Kunnen bommen nog steeds landen

Met precisie, accuraat, 

En de stilte van vermoorde journalisten. 

Achter gesloten deuren

Speelt het meeste van dit verhaal af.

Niet enkel gesloten door hun keuzes,

Maar omdat we alleen kijken

Wanneer wegkijken niet meer kan.