And So I Do Nothing
drowning in a desert depression made
stranded in my mind, childhood green now nothing but a gasping drought
maybe if I strain I can hear myself over the deluge way my ancestors shout
for me to get up, rise up, and reclaim what's mine—
the healing, the life, the time
but I'm scared that when I finally open my mouth a sea will swell out
About the Creator
R.C. Taylor
I write to invoke, to process, to honor, to resurrect, and—sometimes—to grieve but, above all, I write to be free.
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Comments (1)
So haunting and strong…. ❤️