but when we are silent
There we are all were, thinking we’d by now be getting slowly past the point of needing to measure our days by bunches of bananas turned into bread.
Instead, counts of black and brown bodies. Notes on the absence of available hospital beds, there being too many of those black and brown bodies filling those spaces.
Dying seems to be something we are comfortable with other people doing, so long as we cannot see ourselves in them, so long as we do not need to look too close, so long as their names don’t trend for more than a moment.
The trick is to keep going. The trade is not everyone can.
Attribution:
and when we speak we are afraid
our words will not be heard
nor welcomed
but when we are silent
we are still afraid
So it is better to speak
remembering
we were never meant to survive— from “A Litany for Survival” by Audre Lorde