In North Carolina I put on my mother’s wedding dress
passed down for four generations
my great-grandmother wore these pearls
now I walk down a petal-littered aisle
to wed the boy whose mother I call ‘Aunt’
Mother sheds only a joyful tear because he is a man and I am a woman

My university demolished a solid stadium
built a new concrete giant in its place
in the middle of a field where we used to lay and watch stars,
where we used to chase each other when it got warm outside
Meanwhile the arts buildings sink further into the ground, forgotten ruins

My grandmother wages war against ink on skin
and offensive words in books
we can’t burn them anymore
but we will lock them out of our libraries
so that the children cannot be corrupted

Old men picket outside free clinics,
demanding that wombs be held sacred
while the children they would save would starve in the streets
and then be sent to battlefields so we can call ourselves peacekeepers

Teachers and students alike label each other with permanent marker
all the while teaching tolerance
and having multi-cultural food day in elementary classrooms

The young run so fast toward the future
filled with shiny new iGadgets
equipped to tear apart the beliefs we thought we held dear