CALL US
Grant us this day
Bruising the make of us.
At times over half of our bodies
Are not our own,
Our persons made vessel
For non-human cells. To them we are
A boat of a being,
Essential.
A country,
A continent,
A planet.
A human
Microbiome is all the writhing forms on & inside this body
Drafted under our life.
We are not me — We are we.
Call us
What we carry.
I was writing since I can remember – I just didn’t know it was poetry yet, or that writing could be a career.
Our scars are the brightest parts of us.
We might not be fully sure of all that we are. & yet we have endured all that we were.
To love one another just may be the fight of our lives.
Poetry and language are often at the heartbeat of movements for change.
In this truth, in this faith, we trust.
For while we have our eyes on the future,
History has its eyes on us.
Change is made of choices, & choices are made of character.
Always remember that
What happened to us
Happened through us.
Please.
Do not ask us who we are.
The hardest part of grief
Is giving it a name.
What’s really funny about being National Youth Poet Laureate is that not everyone even knows it exists.
The oration of poetry, I consider to be its own art form and tradition.
The great responsibility I feel is to get people to put that power and that hope in themselves.
Poetry has never been the language of barriers, it’s always been the language of bridges.
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and then