Like them, I have sought to comfort
But discovered there’s no comfort
Found when hanging on
Edges and screaming into voids
I am devoid of blessings; I wish
I listened to the prayers
Of my grandmother, when she
Gripped her rosary and asked Jesus
To keep me safe on lawless nights
Safety and comfort are
Relative in worlds where
Power is the only word that matters –
We are in tatters, shattered
By pale tribes we don’t understand
In my hand, I hold the key to the
Multiverse – it’s a place where diversity
Is more important than white supremacy
Wet dreams that make you and I scream
And hide in shadows of teeming
Masses, coming to take us away
Into hideous gray horizons.
Author’s Note: The first line of this poem is taken from Vievee Francis’ poem “Like Jesus to the Crows”
