These are fresh off the press
the sentence “my ears are red”, when visiting the border for the first time since it was crossed as the butterfly swims
the words “they are roses” about those powerful enough to stand tall in a city that tries to sweep their bodies under the rug
A standing under bridge, being asked to be the teller of the park story. How do I explain that every time I am here, I am haunted by ghosts. That I wanted to say, this is near where my brothers body hit the sand from up there. How painted murals don’t even start to cover up the fact that this city was built to isolate us. And not to blame the city, or take for granted the empowerment of these paintings, but to ask instead to tear down the concrete and socially created structures that are still holding our communities down.
All of this weather beneath the storm.
All of this the sexy that is in my body regardless of the price of my chones.
My walk of fear, once done in a safe place, recognized in exact detail to that of those around me. The knowing that I am not alone in the quick glances, the shoulders raised high stances. The ready fists in pockets. And the seeing that as I take this task seriously, it means I am ready to move past this walk. To move with open arms and unclenched teeth. To embrace life unafraid of what it will bring to me.
I have learned that you can not control anyone else, you can only control yourself.
To be in control so that when told to be afraid, you are not.
so that when told to hold back love, you will not.
so that as a spirit, you are free regardless. I am free regardless.
We are all criminals. Why is it more ok to steal love without returning it then to steal bread? How can a piece of paper be used to define our humanness? Where do we draw the line of people drawing lines and then building walls and fences and malls and subliminal messages?
There should be a dramatic ending here. It feels strong and valid until this point. But the drama continues, it does not end. This is an unfinished story. You will have to write the rest. I want you to be the best parts of the future. I want your movements to grow well past mine. You are strong and worthy, and you are alive. The choice for the next words are yours, not mine. I am not walking scared and I believe in both of our power to grow however it goes.