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Dónde estoy: this Ikea table from Ando that is now a desk
"What if I gently, gingerly accepted / that what is is not always what will be?"
When We Come
A poem by Sonia Sanchez
Incongruous
“the word- / less blues cry of Hope”
Poem: A blessing for the one in the scrubs
May you know that you are loved.
Pandemic
Know that we are connected / in ways that are terrifying and beautiful.
‘Illegal’ immigrants & legal inhumanity
who are we the people to keep people / from cropping the ‘amber waves of grain’
Constancy
Pearls of catkins / illumine the willow’s branches
My grandmother’s grinding stone / El molcajete de mi abuelita
Surviving is made of the shadows of the grinding stone.
The invisible woman
‘You said it was for the best if my soul remained hidden. . . . I believed you for a time.’
Your stories belong to you
no one can rename you Other, it can’t stick, as you offer the gift of being and saying who you are.
Imagine
imagine your / body out- / living your / mind.
Light of trees
shadows of clouds / hurrying to some reunion