The story of this poem: I started writing this one back when ICE first showed up in my city. This is the updated version, now with 100% more iambic pentameter and lady-rage.
LET US RISE We all just want to see the roving sky. This girl was taught by eyes who learned from fists. I lived for far too long as flattened land, And learned the yawning shape of hungry wind. Today, I’m trending luscious, Rubenesque, All glacier-rounded mountains, pale, snow-capped. (In this place, the fall air is crisp and fresh.) An ancient black cat sits on my soft lap. (To hold our elders safe is privilege.) We all deserve a shot to see the sky. I close my eyes and dream of molting birds. The news tells me that Trump is building camps. “Not to worry, little girl, Only the very worst will be so damned.” “Good sir, Do you mean the ones who got trapped Between Death’s robe And taking a chance?” We all just want to stroll and give the wind a little taste. I recall the graphic pictures from back in the day, When we got scared after those jets crashed through, So we disappeared brown folks down to Guantanamo. My magazines showed faces bloody-bruised, Gaunt, rubbed-raw, and violated wrists. You know, Surely a new generation can do better than that shit. We all just want a shot to form ourselves, Unmolested by bizarre jealousies, No one protesting because we exist, The air touched by the perfume of bodies, Seen by nothing but soft and loving eyes. We all just want to breathe the air outside. We were supposed to be the great future, But the past wouldn’t step aside, Wouldn’t die, And it’s so great that they’re still here, alive, But they just won’t let us pull up our chairs. Why not build homes instead of all those camps? We wanted to do more, I swear, Why can you not give us a fighting chance? We wanted to succeed, we craved to try, We took a look at the state of the world and we all got IUDs. We’re aching to get up off of our knees. We all deserve a shot to see the sky. Please, just let us rise.
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