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"resourcefulness" poems
Fox in the Snow, what do you do? Through what resourcefulness can you escape the chilling winter cold? Can you lend me some and help me escape my destructive relationship? No? Alright. Keep playing, Fox in the Snow. Destructive relationships are the least of your concern.
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Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 12:38 AM UTC
Fox in the Snow
I am a white, Jewish girl from Florida. Hit me. Hit me with your white girl jokes, Your Jewish American Princess stereotypes. I will giggle and squeal right along with you. Because yeah, I do order white chocolate mocha frappuchinos from Starbucks, I Instagram pictures of my nails, I take selfies, whiten my teeth, straighten my hair, Shop at Forever21 and drink Naked Juice like it is my job. Yeah, my daddy buys me things, I don’t pay for my data plan, There’s no way in hell I would drive a sedan, I wear Nike shorts and avoid any nearby cameraman, And let me tell you, I love jamming out to old school Britney Spears. Hit me one more time, because none of that means I am any less intelligent, Any less diligent, Any less likely to face judgment Than any other slice of diversity around me – I am a white, Jewish girl My nose is not its own cartoon, I eat bagels (but I absolutely hate lox), I’m not tan or even the least bit tinted, And god knows I don’t wear Uggs. Tell me I need to get married young, Major in business, Wear clothes that leave me airless, Get some of that European gracefulness, But don’t tell me I’m dumb. Don’t tell me I’m not thoughtful. I’m a white girl. Take a glance at my resourcefulness, Understand my goals of being ambitious, Get rid of your own stereotype-inducing cockiness, And notice me in all of my flawlessness. Because I am a white girl, And I am unique, strong, inventive, Empowered, passionate, adventurous, Indomitable, unbeatable. I am an individual – Not part of some whole that you put me in to stabilize your mold, Not the example of a societally scatterbrained ***** meant to be your centerfold,   Not a previously worn-out piece of clothing thrown to the gutter unsold, Rather a human being of my own rules and my own morals A human being with ideas and intelligence and power, A white, Jewish girl, A person.
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Nov 21, 2013
Nov 21, 2013 at 5:31 PM UTC
White Girl
I am a white, Jewish girl from Florida. Hit me. Hit me with your white girl jokes, Your Jewish American Princess stereotypes. I will giggle and squeal right along with you. Because yeah, I do order white chocolate mocha frappuchinos from Starbucks, I Instagram pictures of my nails, I take selfies, whiten my teeth, straighten my hair, Shop at Forever21 and drink Naked Juice like it is my job. Yeah, my daddy buys me things, I don’t pay for my data plan, There’s no way in hell I would drive a sedan, I wear Nike shorts and avoid any nearby cameraman, And let me tell you, I love jamming out to old school Britney Spears. Hit me one more time, because none of that means I am any less intelligent, Any less diligent, Any less likely to face judgment Than any other slice of diversity around me – I am a white, Jewish girl My nose is not its own cartoon, I eat bagels (but I absolutely hate lox), I’m not tan or even the least bit tinted, And god knows I don’t wear Uggs. Tell me I need to get married young, Major in business, Wear clothes that leave me airless, Get some of that European gracefulness, But don’t tell me I’m dumb. Don’t tell me I’m not thoughtful. I’m a white girl. Take a glance at my resourcefulness, Understand my goals of being ambitious, Get rid of your own stereotype-inducing cockiness, And notice me in all of my flawlessness. Because I am a white girl, And I am unique, strong, inventive, Empowered, passionate, adventurous, Indomitable, unbeatable. I am an individual – Not part of some whole that you put me in to stabilize your mold, Not the example of a societally scatterbrained ***** meant to be your centerfold,   Not a previously worn-out piece of clothing thrown to the gutter unsold, Rather a human being of my own rules and my own morals A human being with ideas and intelligence and power, A white, Jewish girl, A person.
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47
What is originality anymore? The pop songs we listen to day in day out, That are only updated remixes of Songs that our parents Already know every lyric to.
 Is it the pranks we play on each other at school, Poking holes in the top of water bottles, So we don’t get caught when we try to catch our class mates. Drowning them In carbonated energy drinks. Don’t think you’ll get away with it. The teachers already know, About flicking elastic bands at the backs of girls knees, So they scream a little louder And turn around to see Boys smirking faces, Because they have been there before.
 Define originality.
 Originality . /əˌrɪdʒɪˈnalɪti/ noun 1. the ability to think independently and creatively.
 •the quality of being novel or unusual
 synonyms: inventiveness, creativeness, creativity, innovativeness, innovation, novelty, freshness, newness, imagination, break with tradition, resourcefulness, cleverness, daring, individuality, unusualness, unprecedentedness, uniqueness, distinctiveness
. Is it smuggling ***** in water bottles, Or sneaking down to the back garden To have one last cigarette with your friends, At 1am On New Years When you have had more to drink than your parents Yet you are only 15. Watering down whiskey from your parents liqueur cabinet With apple juice. 
Getting caught drunk After being out with friends, Stumbling in at 2am On Sunday morning.
 Storming up to your room After having a row with your parents. Slamming the door, Screaming at the floor, Calling a friend, And ******** about the people who brought you into this world.
 Maybe I’m not as good with words Than I thought I was
 O r i g i n a l i t y I s D e a d 
Your parents Grandparents Aunties and uncles Have seen it all before It’s a fact of growing up And one day You will too know Exactly how it is
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Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 6:33 PM UTC
Originality
What is originality anymore? The pop songs we listen to day in day out, That are only updated remixes of Songs that our parents Already know every lyric to.
 Is it the pranks we play on each other at school, Poking holes in the top of water bottles, So we don’t get caught when we try to catch our class mates. Drowning them In carbonated energy drinks. Don’t think you’ll get away with it. The teachers already know, About flicking elastic bands at the backs of girls knees, So they scream a little louder And turn around to see Boys smirking faces, Because they have been there before.
 Define originality.
 Originality . /əˌrɪdʒɪˈnalɪti/ noun 1. the ability to think independently and creatively.
 •the quality of being novel or unusual
 synonyms: inventiveness, creativeness, creativity, innovativeness, innovation, novelty, freshness, newness, imagination, break with tradition, resourcefulness, cleverness, daring, individuality, unusualness, unprecedentedness, uniqueness, distinctiveness
. Is it smuggling ***** in water bottles, Or sneaking down to the back garden To have one last cigarette with your friends, At 1am On New Years When you have had more to drink than your parents Yet you are only 15. Watering down whiskey from your parents liqueur cabinet With apple juice. 
Getting caught drunk After being out with friends, Stumbling in at 2am On Sunday morning.
 Storming up to your room After having a row with your parents. Slamming the door, Screaming at the floor, Calling a friend, And ******** about the people who brought you into this world.
 Maybe I’m not as good with words Than I thought I was
 O r i g i n a l i t y I s D e a d 
Your parents Grandparents Aunties and uncles Have seen it all before It’s a fact of growing up And one day You will too know Exactly how it is
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53
Guarded is a key word for you. You keep your privacy highly protected. Your reluctance to openly Exhibit your feelings must be respected. Though you are interested in others, They know you ONLY to a degree. Even when seemingly open, you show Only what you want them to see. Your strong will and your ability To want to get to the bottom of things Make your sense of resourcefulness Guide you to seek out and pull the right strings. You can be very stubborn at times; Your reticence becomes persistence. You're not usually combative, but when You're pushed you knock down all resistance. If people try to fool you, forget it. You DON'T like being manipulated. The outspokenness of Scorpios Often remains understated. You could be called a truth-seeker; Your insight is powerful, your judgment keen. Challenges are not to be feared And must be brought into your routine. You must learn how to master The two forces of need and desire So you can develop your potential To manage the power that you require. Until it's unleashed, true Scorpio Energy stays deeply hidden. Everyone knows that criticizing A Scorpio is strictly forbidden. You might tend to dominate Relationships, so do be wary. That your intensity can overwhelm Others for you is customary. You're not arrogant or self-involved; Inner struggles you rarely display. Allowing others to see your weakness To you would be a cause of dismay. You appear to be easy-going And have to learn that it is fine To manifest the intensity Associated with the sign. Your power and magnetism Can be for some an inspiration, As well as your stamina And your fierce determination. Your mental and physical powers Of recuperation, along with--of course-- Your creativity, Make you a guiding force. - by Bob B
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Oct 27, 2016
Oct 27, 2016 at 5:57 PM UTC
If Your Birth Sign Is Scorpio...
Guarded is a key word for you. You keep your privacy highly protected. Your reluctance to openly Exhibit your feelings must be respected. Though you are interested in others, They know you ONLY to a degree. Even when seemingly open, you show Only what you want them to see. Your strong will and your ability To want to get to the bottom of things Make your sense of resourcefulness Guide you to seek out and pull the right strings. You can be very stubborn at times; Your reticence becomes persistence. You're not usually combative, but when You're pushed you knock down all resistance. If people try to fool you, forget it. You DON'T like being manipulated. The outspokenness of Scorpios Often remains understated. You could be called a truth-seeker; Your insight is powerful, your judgment keen. Challenges are not to be feared And must be brought into your routine. You must learn how to master The two forces of need and desire So you can develop your potential To manage the power that you require. Until it's unleashed, true Scorpio Energy stays deeply hidden. Everyone knows that criticizing A Scorpio is strictly forbidden. You might tend to dominate Relationships, so do be wary. That your intensity can overwhelm Others for you is customary. You're not arrogant or self-involved; Inner struggles you rarely display. Allowing others to see your weakness To you would be a cause of dismay. You appear to be easy-going And have to learn that it is fine To manifest the intensity Associated with the sign. Your power and magnetism Can be for some an inspiration, As well as your stamina And your fierce determination. Your mental and physical powers Of recuperation, along with--of course-- Your creativity, Make you a guiding force. - by Bob B
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53
I may never be a Nolan Ryan fastball pitcher, But I can play any position the coach asks of me and I’m a helluva hitter. Try to be a sponge in everything I do, Resourcefulness, Adaptability and Work Ethic are your conquest clues. So make every second count young person!! Wear your heart on your sleeve..express yourself for all to see!!! And as **Dale Carnegie once said…Be the better person and don’t worry about anyone talking incompetence Cause “Unjust criticism is often a disguised complement”! -K.E. Carman ** Dale Carnegie – How to win friends and influence people
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Feb 3, 2016
Feb 3, 2016 at 12:49 PM UTC
Life's Little Lessons - Part II
The World's Times chronicled Crusades and Fatawas, Jihads and Inquisitions, Coups and Genocides.      Such resourcefulness The Construct. Another Cathedral rises In a destitute country.      Do-able We're told From the leader's lips      We'll always have the poor. Uh huh! The poor! That's what was said. We can always put them to work, And there won't always be work. They'll need membership cards, And birthings and burials, Like always.      See the pyramids along the Nile      You get up every morning from your alarm clock's warning Another temple Will grow from Rice paddies; A synagogue, A mosque will Cinch tiles On the backs of peasants. I've had enough Laundering by recluse Single mothers, By crooks posing as shepherds, And Holy Wars      *so oxymoronic      cleanses too* Any Divines Benefitting from Our labour and wages; Our drachma, denarius and shegel, Aren't worth the worship. Yet the lenders are good At getting their pound.           *Don't drop a coin           In a wishing well,           Pay cash for a mass           Where they'll ring your bell.           Choose a charity,           There's so many,           That need a           Pauper's Penny.*
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Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 8:18 AM UTC
Good at Getting Their Pound
A child growing out of his clothes, into grown folk A metaphor for metamorphosis, A child looking within, questioning, if there’s an adult in this His childhood of little resourcefulness still made him fortunate It formed a fighter from birth, against evil’s extortionist As he was marked from the start like the A of adulteress No pretty dimes on his line, petty crimes to his name He’s penny wise with his time, plenty wise for his age Open wounds made him an open book, his cover couldn’t stay Every year a flipped page, read between the lines under his eyes He looks aged, his childhood misplaced Lost himself, like slaves and last names The child’s aim was to arrive to adult destiny He was never given the train His “Rite Of” Passage the underground railroad He freed himself from mental chains He became his own Harriet Tubman, Fled from home, got hip to runnin Walked through the hills and valleys reminiscing on fam in Cali They thought he left to rebel but truth is he misses em badly Long ago, his parents a Jack and Jill went whack for real, colliding down a hill, They were taken, gravity steals It’s fill of will over them still And ever since the spill, they been ill popped the pills caught the chills unpaid bills losing everything so they became his Achilles heel Left an orphan to look like Prodigal, but the optical isn’t real His struggle doesn’t appeal, so many stare unaware, looks can **** Labeled as a runaway, he just took ambition, and ran with it He can’t look back to miss them, he has to travel the distance He’s set sight on his vision He lost everything in the year twenty twenty So how is he still running? he lost the baggage with it A child running out of lessons from adolescence Adulting is different He grew up hard and fast, busted through the concrete Ready to make the past his *** screamed “put it behind me!” Hurt people hurt people So he declared “it’s all love” They hit him, he gets back up Thanks to The God up above
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Oct 30, 2020
Oct 30, 2020 at 11:49 PM UTC
The Runaway (A Child's Trauma)
A child growing out of his clothes, into grown folk A metaphor for metamorphosis, A child looking within, questioning, if there’s an adult in this His childhood of little resourcefulness still made him fortunate It formed a fighter from birth, against evil’s extortionist As he was marked from the start like the A of adulteress No pretty dimes on his line, petty crimes to his name He’s penny wise with his time, plenty wise for his age Open wounds made him an open book, his cover couldn’t stay Every year a flipped page, read between the lines under his eyes He looks aged, his childhood misplaced Lost himself, like slaves and last names The child’s aim was to arrive to adult destiny He was never given the train His “Rite Of” Passage the underground railroad He freed himself from mental chains He became his own Harriet Tubman, Fled from home, got hip to runnin Walked through the hills and valleys reminiscing on fam in Cali They thought he left to rebel but truth is he misses em badly Long ago, his parents a Jack and Jill went whack for real, colliding down a hill, They were taken, gravity steals It’s fill of will over them still And ever since the spill, they been ill popped the pills caught the chills unpaid bills losing everything so they became his Achilles heel Left an orphan to look like Prodigal, but the optical isn’t real His struggle doesn’t appeal, so many stare unaware, looks can **** Labeled as a runaway, he just took ambition, and ran with it He can’t look back to miss them, he has to travel the distance He’s set sight on his vision He lost everything in the year twenty twenty So how is he still running? he lost the baggage with it A child running out of lessons from adolescence Adulting is different He grew up hard and fast, busted through the concrete Ready to make the past his *** screamed “put it behind me!” Hurt people hurt people So he declared “it’s all love” They hit him, he gets back up Thanks to The God up above
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58
A chronic disharmony clutching at the skull inside my flesh and the stomach unfurling in a perfect illusionary storm sometimes i would wonder if i would see them in the street or what they would say about me and gasp in pain as the tyrants who lived in my belly chuckled at the residual aftershocks from an event that passed , at the height of it's rule , just over a year ago. slowly with each breath i breathe i bring myself to a place of still resourcefulness to react to that situation in a way that does not impale my sense of self nor rob me of my right to be and that is my freeness that only I can bestow unto me.
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Jan 1, 2015
Jan 1, 2015 at 10:05 AM UTC
I , the thief in the daylight robbery conducting the theft against myself
you look like every beautiful city I've never seen. a serene, untouchable bravado masquerading your false pretenses. your a dark dream i often turn to, when there's no ups to long days spent feeling down. you feign compassion with what could almost be called, an expertly crafted imitation of emotional meandering. but we know no ends, why? because my depravity, and your menacing resourcefulness, somehow compliment in this world we have created, where distance is its own intimacy, tangible between our empty hearts.
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Jun 9, 2013
Jun 9, 2013 at 7:58 AM UTC
Untitled
To my firstborn: I see myself in you; In your never-ending quest for knowledge, In your unquenchable thirst to understand the why of everything. I see your need for affection, And I see your longing for a father. I fear for you. I fear that you will follow in my footsteps, Make the mistakes that I did, Fall into the arms of the wrong men In your confusion and hurt surrounding your absent father. But I promise you this: I will not let you go into the world unprepared. I will let you make your own choices. I hope you will make mistakes, Little ones and big ones, While you are still young, While I am still here to help you up. I hope that you will stay soft, And not let the world harden you. Because the world, my sweet princess, Is a hard place. It will knock you down, And kick you while your down. Stay innocent, my sweet girl, and stay soft. To my baby: I wonder who you will become, As I watch the first buds of your personality Flowering in front of me. Already I see your tenacity, Your resourcefulness, The the determination that drives everything you do. Already I see your curiosity, Your wonderment and joy at every new thing. And I fear for you, too, my baby girl, Because soon enough you will miss your father. You will start to understand that someone who should be there, isn't. You will start to discover that tenacity and determination Do not always make for success. You will fail, and you will be discouraged. I hope that you will never lose that drive. I hope that every failure makes your determination that much stronger. To both of you: I hope that you will never forget That you are beautiful, amazing, strong creatures, Capable of more than you will ever know. I hope that you will always make your own choices, Be confident in yourselves. I hope that you both become women Who know what you want, and will stop at nothing to achieve it. I hope that you will let no one, man or woman, Negatively impact your opinions of yourselves. And I hope that you will never forget That I love you with every breath that I have.
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Aug 18, 2014
Aug 18, 2014 at 1:26 AM UTC
To My Daughters
To my firstborn: I see myself in you; In your never-ending quest for knowledge, In your unquenchable thirst to understand the why of everything. I see your need for affection, And I see your longing for a father. I fear for you. I fear that you will follow in my footsteps, Make the mistakes that I did, Fall into the arms of the wrong men In your confusion and hurt surrounding your absent father. But I promise you this: I will not let you go into the world unprepared. I will let you make your own choices. I hope you will make mistakes, Little ones and big ones, While you are still young, While I am still here to help you up. I hope that you will stay soft, And not let the world harden you. Because the world, my sweet princess, Is a hard place. It will knock you down, And kick you while your down. Stay innocent, my sweet girl, and stay soft. To my baby: I wonder who you will become, As I watch the first buds of your personality Flowering in front of me. Already I see your tenacity, Your resourcefulness, The the determination that drives everything you do. Already I see your curiosity, Your wonderment and joy at every new thing. And I fear for you, too, my baby girl, Because soon enough you will miss your father. You will start to understand that someone who should be there, isn't. You will start to discover that tenacity and determination Do not always make for success. You will fail, and you will be discouraged. I hope that you will never lose that drive. I hope that every failure makes your determination that much stronger. To both of you: I hope that you will never forget That you are beautiful, amazing, strong creatures, Capable of more than you will ever know. I hope that you will always make your own choices, Be confident in yourselves. I hope that you both become women Who know what you want, and will stop at nothing to achieve it. I hope that you will let no one, man or woman, Negatively impact your opinions of yourselves. And I hope that you will never forget That I love you with every breath that I have.
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54
An object can't hear An object can't see An object can't breathe Like you Or me What's an object's motives or deapth of reason to be? What thoughtfulness, does an Object Have thoughts? ...who am I... ...why am I here... ...how and who should I outta be... ...can I be happy... ...am I sad... We craft an object We use an object We define it's reason and meaning Why it is and What it should function for We specialize it's resourcefulness And squiz out it's worth...until it's? Useless? Doesn't work? Doesn't have the same woth it used to have? It's totally in our control We define how long it should exist Or how long it's in our presence An Object we don't like anymore Or have no care for we lose,... Forget, dismental, discard, do things with it, without a shameful thouht Well an Object has no feelings It's just there No emotion no motion no tensions To care about It doesn't speak It is always the same Does always the same it was made for No smile no hurt It's there because of you You chose so I't doesn't just apear out of nowhere You baught it Someone gave it to you You saw it and wanted it to be yours You can share an object You can keep it for yourself You can show it proudly or destainfuly What ever you feel to do with it You do It won't mind Well if I think about all this I guess we can all agree What an Object really is.
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Sep 15, 2017
Sep 15, 2017 at 2:39 PM UTC
Object
Whenever you enter my thoughts A fire begins to burn fiercely in my heart Destroying everything in its path Except any positive thoughts And from my mind, emerges a voice Saying "You can do it And you WILL do it!" Whenever something seems amiss I think of your struggles And gradually, do I find myself more capable Of achieving every task that is set before me A Harry Houdini, you may not be However, an inspiration are you, for sure Because, so much do you care About righting all the wrongs in our society Casteism, Hindutva, Islamophobia, gender inequality Determined are you, to fight hard for social justice Even if you end up paying a huge price I consider myself an extremely lucky person To know such a lovely human being like you Who talks not through words but actions Though you are a very loving partner and mother Rarely, do you showcase your affection and care Your sheer nerve and bravery would make Godric Gryffindor proud Your patience, dedication, loyalty and sense of justice would make Helga Hufflepuff proud Your sharp wit and natural curiosity would make Rowena Ravenclaw proud And finally Your sheer ambition, determination and resourcefulness would make Salazar Slytherin proud Always, will you be my primary motivator Keep rocking, keep fighting and do take care May the Almighty bless you forever!!
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Aug 27, 2024
Aug 27, 2024 at 4:01 AM UTC
My Primary Motivator
one of these days I will try to see without being obtrusive I will try to breathe without much heaviness I will try to hear without being unheard I will go along with much steadiness the irreplaceable is never to be forgotten   almost impossible to take back as the grateful recipient   the irreplaceable is never to be forgotten almost possible to give back to soon-to-be recipients one of those days I will speak with assurance I will feel with dauntlessness I will think with resourcefulness
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Dec 25, 2017
Dec 25, 2017 at 2:44 AM UTC
Senseful
Under African skies sit trees with blooming fruits and green fields, lush with rainy season harvest. There are children with eggshell white smiles that are bigger than the dreams their villages ever promised. There are playful mothers who dance alongside their children summoning the Gods to protect and provide for them. Under African skies, there are hearts damaged by neglect and abuse but protected by tough skin that glows effervescent in the suns radiance. There are rusty bikes and fried breads. There are toys made out of banana leaves and plastic bags that always make children excited to play–resourcefulness helps to balance the trials of life and loss and all of the painful predictability of the have-nots. Under African skies, I have been introduced to some of the greatest hardship I have seen anywhere in the world. It is reflected in the scars on ****** bodies who inherit disease and poverty from their parents–in the crumbling homes and failing roofs–in swollen bellies and on naked newborns. Under African skies, I have met industrious people who are steadfast in their work of giving their kin and kind a different chance. In African skies, I have seen clouds change in a moments time creating new seas of colorful patterns I’ve only seen in magazines. I’ve watched the sun set, seen nights roll in accompanied by unannounced heavy rains that make lullabies on tin roofs. I have seen stars sparkle when the whole village turns black. I have looked up, praying on each star that the children will blossom like the fruits on the trees–that they will shine like the teeth in their smiles and dew on their faces. I hope that rain will come again unannounced, and that it will clean and clear the way for another tomorrow–for a new day where what is under the sky will be just as beautiful as what is above.
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Mar 22, 2018
Mar 22, 2018 at 1:54 AM UTC
Under African Skies
Under African skies sit trees with blooming fruits and green fields, lush with rainy season harvest. There are children with eggshell white smiles that are bigger than the dreams their villages ever promised. There are playful mothers who dance alongside their children summoning the Gods to protect and provide for them. Under African skies, there are hearts damaged by neglect and abuse but protected by tough skin that glows effervescent in the suns radiance. There are rusty bikes and fried breads. There are toys made out of banana leaves and plastic bags that always make children excited to play–resourcefulness helps to balance the trials of life and loss and all of the painful predictability of the have-nots. Under African skies, I have been introduced to some of the greatest hardship I have seen anywhere in the world. It is reflected in the scars on ****** bodies who inherit disease and poverty from their parents–in the crumbling homes and failing roofs–in swollen bellies and on naked newborns. Under African skies, I have met industrious people who are steadfast in their work of giving their kin and kind a different chance. In African skies, I have seen clouds change in a moments time creating new seas of colorful patterns I’ve only seen in magazines. I’ve watched the sun set, seen nights roll in accompanied by unannounced heavy rains that make lullabies on tin roofs. I have seen stars sparkle when the whole village turns black. I have looked up, praying on each star that the children will blossom like the fruits on the trees–that they will shine like the teeth in their smiles and dew on their faces. I hope that rain will come again unannounced, and that it will clean and clear the way for another tomorrow–for a new day where what is under the sky will be just as beautiful as what is above.
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1
The Imagine Nation When asked where I am from I no longer mention my country by name because people will soon enough realise that my accent is the noun, not a verb. I come from a place where daydreams are never interrupted by darkness because it’s a marriage of preoccupation with nonconformity. Curiosity gives an illusion of genius, insight and resourcefulness are the true collaborators of artistic invention. Panache cannot be consumed.
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Apr 24, 2023
Apr 24, 2023 at 6:51 AM UTC
The Imagine Nation