After The Gypsies

After the Gypsies

stole me
I began to live in color
I felt bruises from
cobblestones beneath my feet
Treats thrown to me in the street tasted deliciously sweet
Rocks under my head shortened my dreams
made them frequent/vibrant
My scent became that
of a wild animal
Tangles in my hair made it thick/luxurious
Every eye followed my
dash to grab a rotten piece of fruit from vendors who reeked of hashish and nicotine
Henna was placed upon
my hands
I had no need to wash them
Winters cold and summers heat tested my survival instincts
After the gypsies stole me
I felt so alive

---Ronda Miller. 

Ronda is a dear friend of mine. She's a poet and a lover of life. She is a survivor. It shows in this poem. I've posted poems from her on here before, but I wanted to address this one. 

There is an episode of Breaking Bad when Jesse finds a little boy in a horrendous situation. His parents are meth heads and the little boy lives in squaller. They are awful conditions. The boys seems unaffected. He knows this as his childhood. In the book, Room, a child experiences his childhood in prison...but that's his reality. He doesn't know anything different. Children seem to be born with such natural optimism. They make the best out of everything. They rise above. They are survivors. When does this leave us? When does pessimism sneak in? When do we start looking around and realizing..."This is shit. I need out of here." I'm not sure. I know there were times I had in Chicago when I was broke and took jobs to get by...and life was difficult. During the time it seemed normal and I just did what I had to do. Looking back I think, "how did I do that??" I think there are many times we look back on life and realize that things were a lot rougher than we thought and yet, we survived just fine. It's when you are older...when you've lived and you go through a rough time and think..."this really sucks..." That's when a decision is made. When I was so horribly depressed in college, I remember thinking how much more I felt than anyone else. I really understood how life felt. I was feeling the lows of low and the highs of high. I felt alive then. It was a rough time...but man, I wrote some good stuff. Luckily the decision I've always made is to make it through and make the best of it. I finally get so tired of feeling badly that I just decide to feel better. 

Sadly, some are unable to come to that conclusion. We lose them to that feeling. 

The optimism of this poem...to turn the harsh climate into a story of triumph. I love it.