To be one with the world means to embrace each other in all that we are. War, conflicts, and patriarchal leadership into oblivion cannot continue and will not lead to a prosperous future. We need action, we need words to light the fire, and we need strength in numbers to stand for what is right.
Across the globe we see the suffering of families and children sent to slaughter just because of where they are born and what their intersectional identity is. No longer should we wait in silence. No longer should we stand by. No longer should we turn away from those who need us most. It is time to carry marginalized voices forward and upward into a chorus of peace and harmony to blanket the world. From the river, to the sea… we should all live free.
Hope Without Peace
The rubble, the destruction, broken homes.
Blown to pieces like glass with thrown stones.
How peaceful we sleep here on unceded land.
While others have hope with no peace in hand.
Under the rubble lay those lost in war.
The memories they carry, lost in the horror.
Children crying for loved ones not seen.
For they are gone, missing, always in dreams.
No platforms to support them,
We cry from the sidelines in terror.
As they are ripped to shreds,
With no witnesses to bare.
The burden and cost of religious views.
As church followers pray in their pews.
A reminder that unkind words only bring war.
The blood thirsty hatred from colonists before.
But we shouldn’t compare,
We sleep in peace.
As people return, to the rubble and pray for cease.
To the lives lost from this war,
And Ukraine before.
We stand with you,
And offer voice.
As hope without peace,
Is what’s presented as joy.
Palestine
Charred bodies laying,
Rubble black.
As if from an abyss,
Unworldly, like they don’t belong.
The screaming fills,
Collapsed lungs, buildings and air.
Like a twisted chorus of iron rods,
With no limbs to comfort but ears to hear.
The dust settles,
But knows that it will not sit long.
Until another bomb breaks,
Through tents and flames.
The names we read forgotten,
Not by ones who care but by greed.
The seeds of Zionists, the IDF,
We will not soon forget.
Celebrating Transgender Awareness Week, I offer the deepest part of my journey to those who may still be on their way through.
Bloom
We sit, bruised and inflamed,
Our souls locked inside this prism of pain.
The stretchy mansion we should be grateful,
That we drape in robes and jewels.
But how can we be content as we look,
Out the window and see the home we must always change,
For others to appreciate.
How to sit with the pain deep inside,
The bruises we leave untold.
The faces of those who say they love us as we are,
But will not show up when we say we were not born who were meant to be.
How can the connection of skin and soul,
Be stitched together in womb,
When there is no voice to answer,
For what we can truly grow to be.
As we complete ourselves,
Stitch by stitch,
Bruise after bruise,
The changes on the outside may look different to others…
But its growth on the inside makes its mark,
As we heal in that skin.
Thank you to everyone who has supported with kind words. This will be my last term with Nexus as I’m moving on to UVic.
Follow the adventure @wanderlost.ascending.
May we all find our voice and self love. xo