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 Jun 2020 Emma
basil
be proud
 Jun 2020 Emma
basil

even if your name
doesn't match the one on your drivers licence
or birth certificate:
be proud

even if your pronouns
aren't the ones they use at
family gatherings or birthday parties:
be proud

even if the one you love
isn't the one you're with:
be proud

even if who you are
isn't who you want to be
right now:
be proud

even if people
don't understand
and still use slurs:
be proud

even if you have to fight
to stay visible:
be proud

even if you're not okay:
be proud
happy pride. especially to those who don't have anyone to celebrate with. i'll celebrate with you. even if you don't think you have anything to be proud of, the people that stood at the stonewall riots think that you do. i think that you do. countless members of this community stand with you, and know that you should stand with PRIDE.

so be proud.

06.01.2020
 Jun 2020 Emma
Rob K
Reflecting
 Jun 2020 Emma
Rob K
I miss being who I never was....
Knitting your muffler
As childhood...
Your black dress smells of me
I can't see the white jasmine flower without you...
"You are a jasmine flower yourself"
"My jasmine flower..."
Oh, my sweet little friend !
Play with me
In the glimpse of childhood memory
Wanting your shoes
Crying to the sun...
Cut my black hair
Turning to a balloon for you
Reaching to the city of you...

شال گردنت را می بافم
...مثل بچگی
پیراهن سیاهت بوی مرا می دهد
نمی توانم گُلِ یاسِ سفید را بی تو ببینم
"تو خودت گُلِ یاسی"
..."تو گُلِ یاسِ منی"
!دوستِ کوچک و شیرینِ من
به یاد بچگی
با من بازی کن
کفش های تو را می خواهم
تا آفتاب گریه کنم
موهای سیاهم را بِبُر
بادبادکی برای تو می شوم
...به شهر تو می رسم
 Jun 2020 Emma
Maja
when they ask
 Jun 2020 Emma
Maja
when people ask,
they don’t really want to know.
they just want you to tell them,
what they already think.
 Jun 2020 Emma
Cello Girl
Geraldine
 Jun 2020 Emma
Cello Girl
Wrinkles run up your warm hands,
Telling tales of love and long times past.
Beautiful hands, carved from ancient oak.
That I can’t help but watch
When they dance through the air,
To the soothing tones of your Boston lilt,
Or as they grip a paintbrush,
Laden with color,
Ready to explode over the crisp page.

I can see them splotched with ink,
Stained from the time you said
That I could paint you.
I can see your hands coming together,
A smile breaking across your face.

I can hear your laugh,
Bubbling from within,
Booming across the room,
Loud and deep,
Infectious and hearty.

Your stories always have a place in me,
Memories and love etching words in my heart;
They fuel my heart’s steady beat,
Sending a smile and joy and memories of you
Infused in my blood.
I love you, Grandma.
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