A ribbon. A race. A flag. Wear it. Live it. Wave it.
March to its meaning
Dream for their unity
Preach on beliefs
Tag a friend.
Black. Yellow. Red. Black lives matter. Asian hate. Indigenous rights.
Colors that bleed unheard
Facing persecution
Waiting for justice
Put a hashtag on it.
Red. White. Blue. Blood. Entitlement. Labor.
Shed for the land
Taken away
Struggle
Give it a label.
Rainbow. Prismatic. Medley. Pride. Spectrum. Emotion.
Oppressed for existing
Judged from birth
Defined by decisions
Speak out.
About the Creator
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More stories from Jolene Marie and writers in Poets and other communities.
Weeping soul
I have a problem that I dare not speak. When I close my eyes and rest my head, something crawls among my still bed. Sneaking above my motionless body, the spirit finds me like a spout. I pour out with grief, sorrow fills an aching heart for things I’ll never know. I cry and sweat for hours into the night. Dark clouds cover happiness; making it a blur. Feelings of sadness are all the mind stirs. I sleep, the spirit subsides, it lets me rest my wondering eyes. I wake the next morning. I Don’t know why I weep. I faintly remember why I couldn’t sleep. This is a problem you dare not speak. For when I close my eyes and rest my head, the spirit comes along and lays beside my bed. So every night before I sleep. I pray the Lord my soul to keep, but I still wonder why my soul does weep.
By Jolene Marie5 years ago in Poets
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