the book of words

this country has convinced you
that discomfort is the same as suffering

some march to end brutality while
some march to cling to comfort
and you see no earthly difference

when some of us would die
so our children could be merely
uncomfortable

what are you still asking for?
whose approval are you still seeking?

not one of us is free until all of us are free

you cannot oppress women without repressed men. you cannot oppress queer people without repressed straight people. you cannot oppress black people without the repression inherent in white supremacy.

those in power are often insecure about it, afraid that if they lose power they will be nothing if only they let themselves learn from the people whose power they so cravenly disregard.

well of course
i’m full of myself

who else,
exactly,
am i supposed
to be full of?

i built an elaborate sand castle
with rooms to spare
a moat to protect it
each towering spire
a testament to perfection

and yet, no one lived there
and yet, the rain

have you ever fought a tide
or a wave
or swam upstream
or have you let the waters
carry you to shore

have you walked aimlessly
through the city
to end up exactly
where you needed to be

have you been touched without agenda
kissed without expectation
let your skin melt past
the thought of mere pleasure
and felt the universe explode
within your bones

have you walked away
from that which hurts
with no road ahead
and no need of one

have you let yourself
simply be

have you?
have i?