Superman Looking Out the Window

I’m going to do something very rare. There’s this poem that’s floating around in my head, and I have to get it out. I rarely have time to write these days, so I’m just going to get it out.

This is my first draft–hence, the “very rare” thing. I never let anyone see anything but the final copy, but I’m going to let you read the draft, and then later when the piece is done, you will see what the poem becomes. I do this all the time and my final copy rarely looks anything like the first copy, and this is one of them. The background…. Only a few people close to me know this, but I have been sick for a while, and a week ago I was diagnosed with Bell Palsy. In the three days following, I fell apart mentally very quickly, and now I am experiencing a disfiguring partial paralysis and I am seeing a side of life from an angle I’ve never even dreamed about. So it got me to thinking of others who are much “worse” off than I am, and I ended up seeing a man in a store being wheeled around by his kids… he is in a place I imagined I could be myself, if I don’t take care of my health. Basically, nothing on the man worked, but his brain and his eyes. After reflecting on his situation (actually I felt sorry for myself until I saw him), I began to imagine what life was like for him. I thought about people who longed for euthanasia and why they wanted it. How the most basic instinct we have is to fight to live, and where some people would swear they’d rather die “if”, while others live with that “if” every day and have fulfilling lives despite of it. And how some people who would have chosen death fought for their lives until they finally wanted death, but are now incapable of making it happen. And this piece is the beginning of what I was thinking about.

Remember, it is a first draft.

 

he peeks out of windows

dreaming of the superman he once was

feeling the strength of steel in those hands

when  he ruled the Earth

bulletproof.

.

tall, like orders to create life

from nothingness

equipped with little more

than his will

and the notion that

it can be done.

.

there was a time

when windows were doorways

and these legs worked

and these hands could grasp

hold of the belief

that I could do

anything

.

when I was still him

and my kids thought I was

Him

when brainwaves could travel like rumors

further than light

when this mind could leap tall buildings

in a single bound

before the sounds of failure

could utter its first syllable

.

eyes that once saw

ears that once listened

a tongue that could

tie

twist

and latch

onto dreams

towing fantasies out to the land of

things coming true

.

I felt like I could do

anything

but somewhere trapped inside me

lives the man i really am

the superman i used to be

instead of the Daddy they see

now sentenced to looking out of windows

at the world I once ruled

where this dead prison

holds my world within its walls

.

i am longing to be set free

and fly.

.

.

“Superman Looking Out the Window”

2011

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4 Comments

Filed under Poetry

4 responses to “Superman Looking Out the Window

  1. keoke

    Mustafa, that’s a deep share. Appreciate the willingness to put yourself out there like that. Love and respect bruh…. 1914.

  2. Nancy

    Those words, describing the speaker’s thoughts and emotions. Such a powerful, amazing piece.

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