** Catch up on the story…Part 1 and Part 2
** Start where I left off…
…the story gets very interesting (for me, for you, for the world) on the following day. A day I might have called ‘tomorrow’ except that it will forever be known as 9/11.
** Or jump feet first into…
White NoiseEvolution backwards – September 3rd, 2001 I took flight from all that I called home, called me And I flew out of this state, my state Out of this country, my country And I flew into another world Far across the ocean, soon to be my cocoon of freedom A foreign land, a foreign tongue, a foreign ear Ahhhhh…. The peace of white noise I brought with me all that I needed I sold all that weighed me down Yes, I closed doors And I opened instead myself, for change 44 Belgium Francs to the US Dollar Feet beneath me instead of wheels, I walk Exploration into my own evolution, I talk Klein fritz met luk sauce en put, aljsebleif That’s right, I spoke Flemish, if you please I thought I’d be wide open I thought I’d write But the white noise made me quiet And I slumbered inside my newly spun cocoon Evolution forward – 1 week I carry a phone for the first time since arriving, it rings Cobblestones beneath my feet as she says, “We’re under attack” We, who we, where, what, have the aliens landed Does another country storm our shores My creative imagination goes wild I sit and absorb the news And I begin to fill my days with CNN and BBC The only choices in my tongue, my ear, my noise You, you gather and raise your flags I, I sit quietly Change my currency before it drops 43 Belgium Frans to the US Dollar… 42… 41… Falling… Quietly Falling My new friends catch me, Keep me grounded, guard my cocoon I practice an English accent, just in case And I slumber inside my newly darkened chamber Eyes wide open, open for change The evolution of me But still it stays invisible Evolution forward – 3 months since I flew, ran, escaped All that I called me I set foot on US soil and hear words A cacophony of noise No longer can I call it white noise It has color, meaning A mother scolds her child Two men discuss car sales A lady speaks in angered tones to the person trying to help her I can’t drown it out, this noise of color I know now that I am back And still I’m in another state One more flight to get home I feel the seams begin to rip, tear, shred I burst forth with words that move a million miles a minute No longer slowed to be understood No longer contained in my cocoon And I fly Not inside a metal bird, I fly, soar, can’t slow down I’m told it’s exhausting to speak with me So why can’t I sleep And instead I write I stay up night and after night and I write and I write And I know now the change The evolution of me – and I will write about it And then I will go in search of a mirror for my new voice I will see what my cocoon of white noise has yielded I will know if I soar on the wings of a moth Or those of a butterfly And I will introduce myself again, as if it is the first time Hi, it’s nice to meet me But there’s something you need to know I’m gay Is it nice to meet me? Nice to see me? Nice to know me? Because it’s nice to be me, even if it is just White Noise to you.
That’s my story in poetry form. I recommend catching a spoken word performance if you get the chance. And yes, there’s more to the story – or rather, stories – but you’ll have to wait until I continue the Adventures of A Broad Abroad.