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Words dance around atrocities A predictable refrain
Just say their names
Sing an incantation for your soul Fix your heart in its place Go out into the world And burn it down
Words dance around atrocities A predictable refrain
Just say their names
Sing an incantation for your soul Fix your heart in its place Go out into the world And burn it down
For too long the seeds have been planted the soil has been tended this garden has lain hidden in the shadow of those who refused to see
But finally the sun is shining and this revolution does not grow in peace
Remember this moment soft and full your child playing in the yard neighbors out on walks almost like the life you used to have
Remember this moment
A new world is being born with shouts of pain and blood and rage with sighs of exhaustion and fragile hope
Remember this moment
As we wait to cry
tears of joy hearing the sweet sound of the world’s first breath holding its tender body safe in our arms
or
tears of sorrow for a world lost in stillborn tragedy
Remember this moment
sunlight through teardrop leaves the chaotic refrain of a 4-year-old’s song the touch of a hand
Remember this moment
It may be swallowed up in the end
I sit on the porch in the soft morning air wondering what fires rage today
Entire worlds turned upside down breath caught in throats sorrow turning to ash on our tongues
But here the same leaves still rustle in the breeze the same flowers bloom the same cars are still parked in their same places as yesterday
And I wonder how can this world be how has this world not crumbled in grief how has it not been torn to shreds
how can we go on like this is just the way it is how can we ask so much of people to hold this pain bursting at the seams
how can we
We set fire to souls and then ask them to burn where we can’t see
Every day I see Black fathers sharing joy with their children giving love giving time giving themselves fat babies giggling with adoration
My own father would not care for me as a baby Leaving me in my crib to cry while mom tried to run errands
guess which one is allowed to breathe
Outside people rush to get their hair cut like their overgrown and poorly-shorn-at-home locks are not a badge of perseverance or a mark of passage still unfinished
Outside people rush to the next beginning before they have even seen the previous ending
Here we settle into long days with warmer air and grayer skies and the hopeful bloom of spring flowers giving way to green I yearn to feel the world churning, melting, in its metamorphosis But here the days just pass softly, samely, grayly
What am I writing Who am I writing for Who am I I want to write fire that lights up souls and burns down worlds Instead I am writing loaves of bread and flowers Like a woman tending her hearth But I am not a woman I am not a woman
I’m sorry I haven’t done the thing I said I was going to do I live in a place where the hours are days and the days are weeks and the minutes just rush away and I am still learning how to tell time
Sometimes I spend my work day that precious gift of time writing instead