I’m never sure why poems come so much more easily in the dead of night. But they do. And I have no choice but to listen and wrestle them onto a page lest they rattle around in my head like buttons in a cookie tin for too long. So here are a few.
Soon after the unlawful killing of a Black person, it’s not uncommon for white people to share images of a little white toddler and a little Black toddler holding hands or playing together in a sandbox. The caption is usually along the lines of “We aren’t born racist. We learn it,” or “We were born … Continue reading Understanding that I am Racist
Last night, God kept me awake until 1 am. She wouldn't let me sleep until I had written a draft of a story. It was messy and full of holes, but I got enough of it down on the Notes app of my phone, held inches from my squinted eyes in the dark, that She … Continue reading Stories in the Dark
(S)words of Healing 