Rights

“Oh no,” they say —

He's going to talk about rights again.

The word alone

tightens the room.

The panic begins

when we add equal.

Equal sounds expensive.

Like something must be surrendered.

Like rights are stacked in a cupboard

and someone is reaching

for the top shelf.

As if dignity

is a limited release.

As if freedom

shrinks

when shared.

Rights are not a reward.

Not a trophy.

Not a prize for the loudest voice

or the longest history.

They are not God’s private stash.

Not your inheritance to guard

with a trembling fist.

My rights end

where yours begin.

If that feels like loss,

perhaps what you were holding

was never a right

to begin with.

They are called

human rights.

The adjective matters.

© Ron Simpson Jr.