“Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds…”
My voice and history
Feel like perpetual
Robbery
or Rape (capital “R”)
that I try to see the beauty in
Because
Despite this history
I never lost my divine
Me
Divine
Like the Earth
Sunflower
Fire gal
Dragon fly
Black-winged from the smoke
But British Irish too
I always felt kin to Scotland
It’s all right to be wrong
when are your history has
been
needs
to be
pulled from the landfill
of American revisionist history
whose purity
has forever been in question
But
America
the Beautiful (capital “B” because of me)
my voice is in the room
broken, breaking, healing
but never fully silent
OR silENCED (thank you, Oprah)
My ignorance is LOUD, friend
But it is lessening
as I learn each lesson in
the use of my spare time
My voice is my history
infinite
and now