Ancestors, we are winning despite how things may appear or feel. That our disappointments must be the source of our inspiration. That our lives are not defined by the problems we face.
Still I can smell the cesspool. All this really stinks. Thick air. Children in cages. Women groomed as little girls to never tell. Holding her brothers box of ashes with bare hands. White folk moving into the only hoods our black skin ever touched.
No time. No space for us to grasp or grip or grieve, yet we breathe, we hold you in high regard. Always. We know your truth leads our way. Rest in love and light to all those that have surrendered their breath. Thank you for this bit of peace you left behind.
—TheeAmazingGrace
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Ashé, in light and love.