Poetry by Farah Lawal Harris

Posts tagged “disappointment

Broken Camera


broken camera,
you upset me more than you deserved to,
had me thinking that maybe you represent
everyone else who
didn’t earn my tears
but still got them;
people i put faith in
whose batteries would eventually die
and whose lenses would get stuck in the past,
never to open again;
love i thought was everlasting,
laughter i assumed would never end,
close strangers i called “best friends”
and every other instance
of disappointment.

they are like you,
enjoyable until after the warranty runs out
and on one random day, they just conk out
and there’s nothing left i could do
but get upset and move on,
then replace them,
forget what i learned,
only to get hurt again.

maybe i should re-evaluate
who and what
i put my trust in.

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Disappointment Haiku


a tough, bitter seed–
selfishness, i never knew
you could be so mean.


White Noise


on a sunny spring afternoon
during my freshman year of college,
i found my voice.
not the voice of assertion or anger,
but the true revolutionary in me.
it was as if
someone dropped a piece of burning coal
inside my arteries
which steamed my soul,
sizzled in my mind
and simmered on the tip of my tongue.
the flame was sparked
by racism.
and i spoke!
little old me who was used to letting things slide
opened up her mouth with eloquence
and spoke with pride as i openly identified
the ignorant sin committed against me and others.

i was so excited that i told my lover,
sharing every detail about the incident.
i reenacted my response and waited for him
to affirm what i had expressed
but instead, he said
“Baby, the world ain’t that serious. Who cares about all that?”

my strong black coffee self
turned into decaf,
i was diet store-brand cola with melted ice,
a deflated balloon.
he turned and kissed me
and said, “Forget about all this silliness and focus on now.”
and when he pulled my pants down,
my whole psyche dwindled to the ground.
my victory now felt like personal defeat
and i realized that i had made a fool of me
by attempting to connect with one
whose consciousness flowed
on a different frequency.
our love was static and instead of changing the station,
i got used to the white noise,
kept quiet each time i was ignored,
beat down the fighter i wanted to be
all for the sake of him loving me.

thank God i’m free.


Consequence of a Storm


my plans slipped from my hands and
plopped into a muddy puddle.
being a seeker, i feel compelled
to roll up my sleeves and fish them out
but being a germophobe,
the thought of getting my hands dirty
repulses me.
i can imagine the grime that would be stuck
under my fingernails for months,
seeping out each time i touched my face
or put my hands together to pray.
i could see ruining my favorite clothes
with stains that won’t go away with two wash cycles
and Lord knows i don’t have money for drycleaning.
so here i am staring at a nasty pile of water
that gets murkier by the minute
and i’m stuck.
it’s raining on my head,
my socks are wet,
and my dreams sink further
than i can see.


Goodbye, Hopelessness


it’s hard for me to
get my hopes up
because i’m used to hopes bringing me
down,
dragging me
through dark alleys
that i don’t want to go
and leaving me
without a road-map to get home.
i’m used to the positive being negative
and the negative becoming neutral
so that sadness is not out of the norm,
but considered natural.
i’m trying to reverse the meaning of hope,
redefine it in my dictionary of experiences
so i can fully experience this
concept that takes audacity to achieve.
to believe that good is going to happen
is so much more scary than expecting the worst.
but still i beat the dust out of my traveling pants,
hoping for the delights of life
like romance,
second chances,
happiness advances
and dances in the rain,
life without the feeling of being insane.
hope will change
my outlook and help me get past
this redundant page
in my book and onto the next.

goodbye, hopelessness.


Place of Belonging


i do not belong here in this world.
there is no real place for me.
if there is one, it is probably in between
the cracks of a brick building
where no one could see
and i feel pressure coming
from all sides.
i have so much brewing on my insides
that i could open up a factory
and produce emotions unknown to most
on an assembly line of mundane days
and fake smiles
and going to sleep with the hope
that tomorrow will not be as sad
and waking up the next day disappointed that
it is.

i do not know where i belong–
perhaps in an ocean where waves crash and hit me
so that i can wake up swimming and feeling
alive,
so my bruised and atrophied
muscle of a heart can beat
with some sort of energy,
so that numbness will no longer be
a defining factor of me.
i am out of place in this atmosphere where daily
i walk around without my body.
i do not wish to exist in the spirit realm
where the shell of me is lying and trying
to convince others that she
is whole.

i do not belong in a world where
i constantly have to control
my moods and curb
my frustration
and cry
silently
and smile
automatically
and fail
miserably
at being
happy.

i do not belong in this mental state
and i am hoping that one day
i will find my spot where life feels safe,
where grief and hiding abates
and i can finally step
forward
and look in the mirror
at my own face and see
that there is purpose to this pain
and i do
belong
in this world.


The Cliff


i am so frequently on the edge
of inconsiderate acts
that if i got my act together,
i’d get my facts together
and proceed to jump off the cliff
of “I don’t have to take this”
and lightly land in a place
where foolishness doesn’t exist.

i am so tired of being taken advantage of
that i yawn disappointment
and dream resentment
and if i were a cartoon, i wouldn’t snore Z’s
but a never-ending sequence of “Negro, please.”

i don’t want to be a mean but
i’m so used to the hurt person being me
and i wonder just what about my identity
causes me to be more prone to this activity.
is it my smile?
perhaps it is too inviting.
or maybe it’s my honesty
honesty is so rare these days that
most people treat it as if it were fake
or hold the truth-teller to the same standard
of that lie-teller who played with their mind the last time.

so here i am left feeling
when that person has moved on
to the next interesting pawn
in the chess game of their intentions.
i don’t want to be captured anymore.
just let me be
because these arms are sore from extending love.
this throat is raw from opening up.
this mind is exhausted from pondering the possibilities
that could never be
and my heart is bewildered that i even bothered
to risk again.

so goodbye, my friend.
i bid you farewell for
it is time for me to depart from this height
to a new land where i demand
to be treated right
and hopefully one day you might
muster up the courage, consciousness, and capacity
to be able to join me.