6/21/2018

The night is alive with possibility
The suspense is killing me
Lightning strikes a pose
And thunder comes to me
deeply
Seeping through atmosphere
Home is here
Home is where a gaze holds you safe and a shoulder keeps you steadfast
Cognitive dissonance
I cannot live with this policy ripping through my arteries, this image won’t stop coming to me
A 9-months old baby
In an orange jumpsuit
In a cage in a city
Unclaimed, unwritten, undocumented, unforgiven for the sins of colonialism
Unforgivable
Where were you when ****** branded the Jews?
Then you are accountable too

Wake up to the AA, never a day without.
look to the news, schools out?
Its only April.
Another protest i cant make,
another protest
another protest,
yet no change.
My youth being killed everyday unjustified because of people's hatred.
A threat he was
12 he was, 14 he was,15,16,19,40,36,32.....he was a threat.
17 killed today because of "bulling" i suppose, he was just ill an broken,
poor him right? right.
1000 more suicide a 1000 more hate crimes at its lowest this month.
more murders than anything against the people who just want to love; who want to live the way they want.
My friends heartbroken
families being ripped apart, wondering if they'll be the next to go.
Our leaders are full of hatred, making fun of the ill, no respect for the women.
because of that i no longer have rights to my body, not like i had them really anyway.
No means No,
but your distracting the staff ma'am that's against school dress code,
go home and cover up your collar bone.
I'm 14.
You'r making it hard for the adult staff... ya'know
The ****'s we hired to teach you, the ones that make YOU uncomfortable.
cover up,
that'a all we ask. ;)
                                                   yours truly,
                                                          ­          . . .

It is not my story to tell:
Languishing dreams in the midst of barbed wire fences,
Fearless laughter,
We add lemon, chile powder and salt to this border.

They carry these stories,
Heavy as a sack filled with indignities,
Weighty, like your grandmother’s advice,
Cumbersome, like this daily mental displacement.

I have not bought big things as of lately,
In my mind I plan my exits,
I constantly check my relocation fund,
“What if” is a constant in my lexicon.

I often break in tears at the sound of an immigrant story,
My emotions become gallons of water:
broken and splashed by the boots of immigration officers,
Little do they know, we are cacti:
Tough and our seeds also flourish post mortem.

I want to sing an immigrant song:
Less like butterflies who migrate,
But more like dislocated nations,
Collateral flesh, caught up in steel thorns.

Rest assured we will survive,
Like leaves of siempreviva,
Even after torn away from our stem,
We will grow our own roots:
Defiant, resilient, and with a stubborn willingness to belong.

We are you.

a community of wildflowers pretending to be roses.
befriending what we believe are better plants,
and covering themselves in lavender.
they dip their petals and spikes into ink,
and they pretend that they are feathers,
and with these feathers they pretend to be birds,
and being birds is the only way they feel free.
they are left uncared for and wilted down,
they are overlooked and thrown away,
they are called pests and flower killers.
but they are beautiful,
they are powerful and everpresent,
they are proof that no matter how much pulling them out,
cutting them down, and praying them away, wildflowers are here to stay.