Poetry

Say Her Name

A hand– attachedto a body– holdsa heavy pen.The ink is blood and tears.The words written–are a lament.The words written–are a rage.The words written–are an oath, to never forget, to never give up.The words written are a lullabyefor the One who was slayed down in her sleep–eyes shut, lips puckered, dreaming sweet songs of freedom.

Solidarity, a poem

I need you to understand that I resent labels.I don’t think they represent anyone’s true soul.Instead they pick and pull apart the fabric of your narrative in order to create theirs. Your story is yours to own and change. To paraphrase Shaun King: change has existed after a period he labels the integration of innovation…