Just a Sprinkle
of Hope
I want to dust this place clean, sweep away a year of colossal pain so deep it is now a tear-stained sphere of universal rage no longer contained in repression.
Brewing, in the bellies of my brothers and sisters for centuries, still it lingers, reappears, as if it had never left us.
It begs the question is freedom simply an
i l l u s i o n?
This mess is for everyone to see, a collision of division and unity, sprawling and m o r p h i n g into an incomprehensible chaos incapable of mending, stitching, or wiping the wounds clean.
This is too deep.
Newsflash, this is here to stay.
The uncomfortable wave of past times splattered and digitally remastered into groundhog day of 2020.
A truth I would rather not say, but I will swallow this taste for
honesty and sincerity long before I bow down and wallow in defeat.
I don’t want to be a part of this, I want to switch off and wipe this slate clean, lemon scent the bad bits away and be done with it.
But if I run with this privilege and escape, my words will surely run too.
Persistence is a must.
Remove your lens and step into another pair of shoes, carry those who are lost right now, and above all else?
Never, ever, let your friends carry this shit alone.
Today, I face the coward in me and offer a sprinkle of hope in return.
It isn’t much, but I promise to share what little I have left.
I see you, I hear you, I got you.
If my thirty-one years in this life have taught me anything, it is that we must be brave, not only for ourselves but for others who are counting on our hearts to bleed, weep and scream against the grain. Relying on our art and words to rise into expression and release in clouds of smoke too heavy to dismiss.
Black Lives Matter.
