we chanted
and marched
and demanded
and yelled
and one white man was released
but what about all the others?
FREE THEM ALL
we chanted
and marched
and demanded
and yelled
and one white man was released
but what about all the others?
FREE THEM ALL
create
creativity
and let it all flow out of me
until a time when we can all be
free
free
free
so interesting how
being in one’s 30’s feels
like settling into the person you
were before testing out all the other life things
i’m hungry for experiences
but i need only try something
once
and then i’m happy to go back
and just cuddle my kip and my cat and my dog
and organize books alphabetically
and wake up each morning
to write poetry
[i do wonder if this is the true 9-year-old me, but i also have to admit,
i still have that 9-year-old inside me, plus the 16-year-old who couldn’t
help but immediately drive to see friends the moment they got their
license, and the 22-year-old who just really wanted connection with
whomever would connect with me. i think it’s always been, not about
partying, but about connection. and i also think 9-year-old me
would agree.]
the congratulations
about speaking up
against racist microaggressions
is not “you did it, what a good ally you are!”
it’s “you said more than you would have in the past,
and the world didn’t end
and you didn’t get in a shouting match
nor were you physically assaulted,
so maybe, next time, you can say two things”
because
the bad feelings after the interaction
were not “you said something, and something went wrong”
it’s “you regret not saying more”
and perhaps, after that, you now have the tools
to say more
in the future
[and for any white folks out there
looking to get “dreads”,
just know that locs or dreadlocks are the actual terms
and they are not a hairstyle for you.
period.]
friday the thirteenth
fridays the thirteenth
friday the thirteenths
fridays the thirteenths
any way you say it
we’re married because of it
[and i’m so happy with it,
even after all these years]
how can there be
so much horror in the world
alongside such beauty?
how can death happen one day
and the next, the miracle of a whole new life?
how can those celebrating a graduation/
a union/
pure friendship
be next door to
domestic violent terror
in one’s own home?
i haven’t figured out yet
how to be a happy person
while also knowing
so much that happens behind
tightly closed doors
in front of
tightly shut eyes
because, from my position here,
it feels counterintuitive —
i’m trapped in feeling like
one thing cannot be acknowledged
if the other isn’t also
but perhaps that’s my own black and white
fault
thinking
because there’s also
often
mundane day happening
alongside mundane day
and it’s the grey that
somehow
sometimes
keeps us going
sometimes
i need to remind myself
that i needn’t set out to change minds
when i write from my own soul
no certain goal in my mind
that’s when others’ are impacted
and yes, sometimes, changed
[but what if the mind i need to change
is my own?]
how
and why
and when
and why do i just want
another cup of coffee
to just chill with
i’ve hit a roadblock
in my own lungs
and i can only theorize
about stress and anxiety showing itself in my body
before it gets to my conscious mind —
that’s the reason i can only take full breaths
in very specific instances
and never using the full capacity
of what my lungs should be
and i’m getting enough oxygen
[probably]
it’s just a little more than a little unsettling
to know i have more space for air
and to simply
not
be able to get it