colors of the wind
on my way to school today, i listened to music and cried. i can’t feel the love tonight, tonight because i’m climbing uphill, daddy, climbing uphill. i dreamed a dream of time gone by, but i wake up again and again, the day reset, my nights dark and full of terrors, of people chanting you and me but mostly me, telling themselves it’s okay because everyone’s a little bit racist/classist/sexist/fascist sometimes.
i cried for nature, science, environment, education, culture, exploration, acceptance, knowledge, intellect, integrity. for coexistence. for coercion, colonization, constraint. for ignorance and silence. for Complacency. for those of you singing melodies and skipping words, stumbling through playlists and paintings, decorative tomes of history and literature lining your walls, lined with dust. journalistic explosions, quieter photographs, fashion, food, and film, poster boards and murals. sculptures, scriptures, flowers, coffee, wood, and rain. people. the curves of noses, the way your heart beats. what we can do with our hands and feet.
maybe you dismiss art as platitudes for children and dreamers and people who can see the ocean from their la la lands, as profit, as squares hung in your bedroom, as unfinished pieces, fables or fiction, far away from your reality. exhibits for your viewing pleasure, golden ticketed. curated. dulled and diluted for collection like coins or pebbles, something new next season, they come and they go, but you’re sure they’ll come again. you’re sure they’re the same. you’re sure of entertainment value, wallflower poetry, talking points and heads, sound coming from your radio and speakers above.
consume and resume — your regularly scheduled programming.
create, make, invent, discover, dismantle, engineer, define, work, write, build, resist, question, play, defy, absorb, heal, insist. Insist. say no to boundaries whitewashed as aunt polly’s fence. hear the black album, the white album, anthems in between. sing mockingbird, sing blackbird. dance together and alone. read to grow, read to know, read to ask whatever happened to class lines, to realize they exist. see plights of the world, your infinite, unfiltered earth, because we are not almost there. we are a long way from home, and this is not the end.