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irinia Nov 2022
silence was improvising in my eyes
in this tender fog between one moment
and this moment
and I could see the old love approaching
to invade me
to intoxicate me
with its hypnotic violence
this love like a fossilized wood in their gaze
came to visit me
with so many faces
so many whispers
it was as if angels had descended
on the barren land and
with their unthought hands
were tenderly carressing
the old bones unsung
what else could have I done
open my eyes and dream
the palimpsest of forgotten dreams
forged in the greatest intensity
of all the fleeting moments
in which
they blinked

(I need to shelter my heart from
the silence of decaying leaves
from the violence of life destroying
I S A A C Oct 2022
feast for the ancestors who were famished
embrace the familiar damage
bisou bisou, thankful for the room
used to be so stuffy in the old place
i left my feelings of inadequacy in my old ways
old space, watch the page turn
displace metaphors about the days turn
is getting older just getting further from my innocent joy?
is getting older just pretending that i feel joy?
a glimpse of it underneath the books that weigh heavy on my brain
trying to understand everything but neglecting vain
trying to fulfill the expectations expected of me
for my ancestors who were famished
i am grateful for the feast
Nigdaw Jun 2022
bathed in light
I can almost touch
it feels alive around me
I feel my ancestors fear
and respect
as I capture it
on digital SD card
Ren Sturgis May 2022
I hear that word a lot.
A feeling,
an action.
It affects us in the deepest parts of our beings;
we push back so hard that it festers and bursts.
I'm grieving and I should be honest about it.
I'm grieving for my ancestors who went through trauma and continued on,
I'm grieving for my kin lost to the same rough waters we swim through now,
I'm grieving for the ongoing traumatizing events we face in everyday life,
I'm grieving for the me I could've been if only I'd been loved as I love myself now,
I'm grieving for the future we're working so hard for,
I'm grieving from this pain I'm burdened with.
Thank you grief.
I'm here to hold you and walk into love with you.
Zoe Mei Sep 2021
Look on me dearly:
your stolen sullied sullen

daughter. I could dig you up
to hold your bones but

want only to wash myself
away, like white foam

from the seashore.
If I burn what is buried,

is it cremation
or disintegration? You would fly

ashes in the wind, like a wish

lift, like an altar of lit

Think of learning of your blood:
yellow skin and rice paddies

and great-great-great-great-granddaddy
grey for the Confederacy.

Do two halves not one whole
soul make? I take

a breath
and leave it

Raven Feels May 2021
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, no offense to photography<3---I don't like someone taking my picture:}

unfair for my ancestors and the great greats of the past before

them faces to stay unknown unrecognized in future evermore

call me stupid call me crazy call me insecure

but my veins fear that shoot to endure

eyes perplexed on captured focus

not understanding that optic motion only-in our century a bonus

mind entering a vacant slash

cameras must be abandoned gone illegal in that flash

Tran Thuy Anh Apr 2021
Light and smoke
blossoms from the barrel of a gun
as they lay waste
to the only home I have ever known
and stake their claim on this land
where my ancestors toiled under a smoldering sun,
wrinkles on face,
sweat on back,
callouses on hand.

Stolen plunder
rots in gold and marble jars
while I watch my children collapse
from hunger
and my husband hang himself
on that old tree,
watered by the blood
of generations
gasping for air
under the banner of the unfree.

Tonight, I cry out
to Mother, Father, Aunt, Uncle,
since the voices of my children have dried up
and my husband’s body has returned to the earth,
but I stand, an emaciated shell,
nonetheless standing
with one more scream,
one last sob,
another step,
I shall carry this banner until we all become free.
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