a movie of us

After all this time
you returned to my subconscious
drawing the curtains behind my closed eyes
to screen a movie
a movie of us
where we’re back there,
where we knew each other,
but also now, where we don’t.
How did you manage to combine
and intertwine them?

I could touch your skin
I could hear your voice.
You were there, with me,
real.
You were so real
that when the curtains spread
and my eyes opened
I looked around the room for you
hoping to find you
wanting what I realized was a dream
to be reality.

As hours pass today
the touch of your skin
the sound of your voice
and the energy between us
dissipates
until now
where I can hardly remember.

I cannot comprehend how or why
you came to me
but I thank you
and I hope to see you again soon.

changing the inner voice

The voice in my head
barely recognizable as my own
reminds me of my flaws,
paints my shortcomings,
whispering, “you can’t do this.”

Today I refuse to listen,
turn the volume down to a 1.
Forging ahead with ambitious purpose,
the only voice I hear today asks only one question:
“what’s next?”
This, then that, then that.

If I commit to believing in myself
my inner voice will follow suit.

they are human

Killed
for the color of skin.

Beneath the color,
beneath the size, shape,
and everything between,
they are human.

We are all human.

Our voices, our protests,
our demands to protect humanity
ring around the world.

Black lives matter.
Enough is enough.