SITTING A TURTLE ALL THE WAY DOWN

September 25, 2024

Artwork by StockSnap

How am I meant to stand still when all this poetry lives inside me
All this weight on my back that I carry
So I sit on top of myself while
Nothing seems to fill
An infinite regression
A void of space
This doesn’t feel like home
Just a place I stand in
Just a place to be in
A hollowed land
So full of a history
I am no longer a part of
How does it feel to step foot in a home
And feel like you belong there
Not worried about the rejection
How does it feel to stand in your white civility
And not wonder how you got there
To look into the past and not feel the pull of your ancestors
Beckoning you home to a land that was once yours
Do you feel the quivering
Of the earth’s rejection of us
How it topples
All the way down

This is the second poem in Kevin Almaguer’s series, ‘SITTING A TURTLE ALL THE WAY DOWN.’ The first poem in this series is ‘Sweet Sixteen.’ Stay tuned for the upcoming third and fourth parts!

If you liked this poem and would like to help more writers like this publish their work, please consider supporting our writers and artists by becoming a member HERE.

Kevin Almaguer

Part of my childhood was spent growing up about 45 minutes from the beach city I was born in, the other was spent in the pine infested state of Georgia. The only thing they both have in common besides the heat is that I never chose to be there. Most of my life was in a way planned out for me, even if it was in the most chaotic and unorganized way. I grew up with my two younger siblings, numerous amounts of pets, my mom, and I’m choosing to leave out any single type of father figure. If only for the fact that explaining the situation would take too long and this is supposed to be about me. I learned English later than most because as soon as I was born my mom packed up her things and took us to live in Mexico to be closer to family. So, when I finally did return around the age of seven or eight, I had to fight to keep every part of my culture and language that I was allowed. The school systems were less kind to bilingual kids when I was younger, and like I mentioned before I moved around a lot, leaving me with only vague memories of people each time we did. Life was okay. I by nature was a difficult child but I’d like to think I made it out alive for one reason only, to write. There is no other option for me. I’ve never felt more alive and freer than when writing, and I know it’s what I need to be doing, even on the days when my apathy sinks me to my bed. I found out pretty early in life that being gay wasn’t too excepted in my communities, that and because of the “fathers” I will not name I developed a handful of mental health struggles. These I will not get into because I have learned to live with them, tame them, guide them. Even in my hardest moments I remind myself I have lived through worse. I expect and want no sympathy, my life was what is has been but I like to remind myself of one simple phrase. I say it over and over you see, especially on the nights when I can’t sleep. “If not me then who? If not now than when?” The origins of this saying always get lost on me but it’s the mantra that keeps me from feeling sorry for myself. Life simple is, and I’m going to fight until I make it what I want it to be.