Who are you, with your stones so bright,
Tossed from your glass in the middle of night?
I watch, I wonder, I barely speak,
Yet your loud judgment feels so weak.

You mock the brick, the stone, the frame,
But your own walls wobble, all the same.
I’m new, I write, I try to see,
The cracks in your vanity, clear to me.

You point, you jeer, you love the show,
Blind to the shards that fall below.
Stone houses falter, that I know,
Yet glass, my friend, can cut just so.

Who are you, so certain, so loud,
When your reflection hides behind a cloud?
I’ll scribble my truth, small but true,
While you toss stones from your skewed view.

We are drowning ships
crashing planes
falling skies

We are tragedies that never got
written
in ink
but blood

We are disasters they forgot
to record
or observe
or announce
or save
or help

We are train wrecks that needed saving
Instead you covered your eyes
Shielded your children
Dumped the wreckage into landfills
That are eating away at our plant

Ours

This world, it is ours
Yours and mine
It is not a kingdom that is your
birthright to take
to force yourself on
your rules
your mistakes
your judgement
your hearts

We are people
Collapsible
Collapsing
At every turn
every word
every day
every breath

We are still people
still alive
still able
still fighting
breathing
belonging to a world that has never accepted us
made space for us
let us belong

But we are belonging