I thought this might be a good one to make the second installment of Sunday Flow. Since I started my LLC it feels like the first step on making this poem a reality. I do want to see change. I think as I grow older and more… exhausted… I am offering myself the flexibility and creativity to think differently about what that change will look like in my time — without allowing for compromise — instead a collaborative vision of steady, sturdy, and progressive change. You feel me? Anyway…
I always wondered why the hero of the story had to be a kid
that is the problem with america... we’re too wreathed in fear and guilt to invest our hearts in becoming, or too spoiled and fickle to remain committed to what’s better. we all want to believe that it’s up to the future to fix it but i’m too young to have my dreams crushed under the weight of the impossible. and i'm too old to give up - my ancestors speak through me like endurance - an undying battery. if there is no light at the end of this tunnel then i'll blow a hole in the lining, i'll burrow us out through the grime, clawing until my nails bleed. come hell or high water or heaven in the daylight we seek - change can happen here. right here. on the right side of reason. i bet it’ll sooth you to think of me as naive, to call me lazy because i’ll need help, to draw me ugly because i’m not perfect; but on my deathbed i'll wear mismatched print, acrylic nails, and my brillow pad bush, because i'll die new, i’ll die pretty and i’ll die free and my kids will be kids… not weapons in waiting.