Fist on the Table

The tensile mood at this gathering
suffocates the path
to freedom again.

There is no vaccine
for the poison of the ego
and the tunnel into which
it forces our many vibrant thoughts.

If you dare,
let the wide open ocean
break the way to salty tears of love.

If you dare,
sail away from the grief
to a place where no one recognizes
the way that you walk
or the color of your hair.

This departure will be the fist on the table
demanding the respect you've always been entitled
to drape calmly over your shoulders
before falling into the arms of the beloved.