wildscape. literary journal

Hemorrhage
by Naa Asheley Ashitey

Everything is systemic.
The reason why I’m crying myself to sleep,
the reason I’m currently in a season where I can’t fit into any of my clothes
from the summer or from last Thursday.

Everything is systemic.
The reason why my head is filled with endless questions, 
but I don’t see the text of what is attempting to be asked, 
or what I want to ask, 
or what I think I want to be asked.

Everything is systemic. 
The pain, the suffering, 
the failures that keep piling on no matter 
how much I work to avoid it.

Everything is systemic. 
Being given a seat at the table, 
but the chair is made of cracked glass 
and the blood from the cuts of my thighs and fingers
are further letting the pieces slip off. 

Everything is systemic. 
And the screams from those 
whose chairs are nailed down with diamond and composed of porcelain,
dare to yell at a frequency in my direction
that further weakens my “seat,”
because I spoke up and expressed
that I am at least worthy of being given a glue gun 
to help make this chair steady. 

Everything is systemic.
Everything is systemic.
Everything is systemic.

So, when I finally jump from the banister, 
dressed in doctoral robes, 
my neck tied to the banner which decorates the atrium 
and with my degree as my suicide note taped to my feet, 
is that finally going to be the thing that makes the system realize 
it needed to offer me something better than a 
glass chair?

about the author // Naa Asheley Ashitey