Poetry | THIS IS FOR US

Liquid “I’m tireds” stream down, up, and across my soul
Not my cheeks
And it’s not my back that asks for rest
In a bed
In a home
But my existence
They encourage that rest
Contained and bounded
But my essence graciously declines
And it communicates to me
In vibrations
And chills
And rude awakenings
“We don’t belong there!”
I can’t sleep
In a bed
That waits for the ceiling to collapse
A space that doesn't want me there
That doesn’t want us there

So rest is not an option
It’s not an escape
And it’s not real
Still, pain seeps into our dreams when we sleep

So we make our beds
And we make our homes
And me make our rest

And we will continue to make more beds
And more homes
And more rest
Until none of us feel a need
To know of homes
And not of homes
To know of rest
And not of rest

These homes and beds will be cemented
In a place no one else can build upon but you
But the tools to build,
You need from others

It is in our hearts
In our love
We are love

We have our hearts to live in
And we will rest when we
understand that suffering was never I, me
Singular
If we feel pain
If we hear pain
If we see pain
If we understand pain
And nothing is done, said, or thought about…?

A bystander in the face of eroding humanity
Is
what
You
Are

So we will make our rest

And in our beds
And in our homes
There will be no bystanders

Only love, compassion, solidarity
There will be joint homes and beds
Villages, even
Of people who love one another
Who understand that so much love
Is the loudest acknowledgement of pain
Love will be silence of pain
Love will silence pain

Facebook. This is what is on my mind
my SOUL, if you dare ask

VOICES, do what you wish with this
PEOPLE, feel what you feel with this

This is for us.

My beautiful Indigenous ancestors, we are building our homes.