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Change
 
by Feech

I'd like to go back

but I wouldn't change

Frank's death at the railroad bridge or my decision to

never go home again.

Nor would I remove the times I was broken, cut, wore myself out

or had someone else beat me up

crack my knees

or force me to overdo something

because I "had to".

I would still allow myself to take every threat leveled at me by dark,

hard men who were stronger, better-dressed and had more to lose than I,

as a serious one.

I would maintain every injury for as long as it took to heal,

with the aggravation mentally and reckless strain physically

I placed upon my body; I wouldn't die

a prettier corpse.

I wouldn't experience anything physically different at all.

I would like to go back

and change

every instance of pain into interesting, exhilarating

sensation;

Change every act of rape and violent, angry sex

into lovemaking

and I'd change my taking money from men for sexual favors

into those men giving me money for sexual favors.

I'd change the fact that I myself needed to move on

into the fact that we all,

all of us ever in contact with one another,

needed to move on, together.

I'd change Wanting to Get Out

into looking forward to experiencing

something else.

I'd exchange lifelong, rending guilt

at my baby brother's death

into remembering.

I'd change every instance of stealing

into accepting provision.

I'd make the lies I was living

into baby steps

crossing

along with other tentative, dangerous men

a tressel

touching each other's truth once or twice, violently or

swiftly and less aggressively,

nudging into each other

for balance

until we saw

that they weren't lies we were living at all

but ways to get across

to where we could turn and visualize

what every rape, theft, murder and whoring had really been.

Then we could move on.