My Seat (Poem/book#1)
Root
My Seat
Around my world in
countless days,
Sit at the table
and watch me pray
Before a dinner
without a plate,
Without
sustenance, without a say.
The
fullness of life,
On an empty
stomach,
Refills my chronic
stress porridge.
To my ancestors:
Midnight hunger
satiates.
I’m angered and
lost, please motivate!
Slurred speech,
Fork-to-an-empty-plate
screech,
Contemplating my
learning,
Stomach grunting,
Not-to-go, boxed-out,
boxed-in,
I think I’m going cray...
Crayon-written
menu,
Draw your own
conclusions – Frames.
The haves and the have-knots,
Society’s hunger
pangs,
Why the games?
You are not
welcome to this venue, dear.
There’s a price to
pay if you want to be, here.
The décor – did we
not make it real clear?
Yes, but you cannot move me.
I’m so much more
than what you see.
I am aware of my
truest identity.
I absolutely
refuse to live in fear.
I am inspired to
believe in why not, right now, right here.
I’ve worked for my
seat at this table.
My name is Resilience
And my hope is ancestral.
Root
Thoughts
of the week: What does it mean to be resilient? Find three examples of when you
demonstrated resilience. Did you or the circumstances have to be perfect then?
If not, what does that mean to your ‘now’?
Have you read: Flip?
Have you read: Flip?
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You did it! Your self-authorized voice is both mighty and lovely. Thank you for being you. Thank you for your existence. Thank you for your leadership.
With Admiration,
fern the poet