From Spirit's plane to ER, I
Waited 4 hours post triage.
Watched a middle aged white lady wail herself to the front of the line for her pain was the only thing that mattered in a room of other equally ill patients.
My body shocked and perhaps still in the sky.
It was this moment that solidified that I had matured: grown to know long suffering love more that the other traits. Patience was as rooted as my African ancestry, my black race.
This is an observation poem the stings me like Bee mid meditation & reflection. There is so much to unpack and release when the pain is this bad. I am grateful for another outlet that allows me to share my journey.