racists hate to be called
racists like to be called patriotic
but they make me feel sick

Fallen
but not broken

I was raised as a mother,
Never as the daughter.
A burden they carried,
Never the healer.

I was the giver,
Never the receiver—
And for one single mistake,
I became the villain.

It’s almost been a year—
a year since I last saw you smile,
since I talked with you,
since I heard your voice,

A year of crying,
a year of trying to understand,
a year of sinking into silence and grief—
a year since you breathed.

I am that I am
Was that
Jehovah
Or
Popeye?
Burning bush
Or
Can of spinach
Where does that
Spark lie?
I think it was The lord
Not the sailor man
A claim for existence
The commencement
Of a plan.