i sat across

from our enemy yesterday.

 

and experienced their enflamed breath manifest in your grammar(s)

​

An ancestral response, i stepped away. And helped work on your place in the hills​

​

You of so much harm and impunity, my brother.

You of too much acceptance in desolate desires, my sister

​

Deserve a space amongst us in the hills.

Free to bare nakedness in the coming together of new order(s).

​

To my siblings and family in struggle, however, you present. Let rhythms of grandguiders hum.

"This mmooovement willl heal youu." Too.

​

Let footsteps on this earth, puncture withered armors of our enemies. Planted steps drumming "What we have always known..known..known"​

​

Should mothers' descendants acquire all memory/

                      ​\And stretch her hands

Remnants of your exhaust could never asphyxiate.

​

Our spaces in ruin, wail for our own bias. So yes, i left you in that moment and left the sadism.

 

Only to return with your train ticket to the hills.

Maybe i am not a revolutionary/should i go​

​

yet/in my time

​

Inclined to write of that True half of life,

i

garnered all of the unmanifested salt of mine imaginary

​​​

The water flows. still. Losing its perfect memory.

 

Soaked by jagged steel corrupting and corroborating this pain and the

despair. Life's True Half.

​

Until a star of change hit, illuminating. i must be a revolutionary. There are

no alternatives for ini.

​

The people of the sun.

​

RAHHHH, wailing. As we thrust the life force of our imaginary upon the (dark

spirit) warriors of mourn and to-mourn.

​

To Imani, our born-unborn: Child, should i go before life–this iteration–grants your

beauty to its companions. Be still in that we battled fiercely that first step of the

revolution.

​

The corrupted individual: those cursed elements of spirit due for purge.

Change! Before implosion. Before the inward consumption of thought. Vacuums

Vacuums.​

​

Selah.

​

​