Lucky

Lucky

I never had to kill a man
With an AK-47 gun
I never had to watch my father slaughter
Or gaze agape
As my mother was raped
I never felt the sharp twist of a knife in my innards
Because there was nothing to eat for our dinner
I wasn’t a victim of poverty
Was never the state’s property.
I guess
I was lucky.  

My mommy loved me
My daddy doted on me
I had anything
And everything
My heart desired.
Still, by the time I was ten, or maybe before,
I knew what it was like to be tired.
I felt it in my bones the way that inmates do
I hurt with it so bad that I wanted to be through.

But do I have a right, when informed of child soldiers
To whine about the trials
That I had to shoulder?
When I look at a squalling crack addict baby
Shouldn’t I feel blessed
That I was so lucky?

When they put me away (just for a day)
I knew, I knew I belonged
And I wondered where it went wrong
Where I went wrong, where they went wrong…
But now that I’m out
Aren’t I the fortunate one?

When I smoke cigarettes
And am shamed by the smell
I do think what it was like
Growing up in my hell
And I ruminate on secrets that I really won’t tell—
But compared to the world
I guess
I’ve done well.
I’m lucky,
Lucky
Oh, lucky me.
So why, for fuck’s sake,
Am I so unhappy?