My reveries and spider-web memories catch me. I find the water rapidly cooling.
There are only minutes left if I’m to make it on time.
I drag myself from the tub after a vigorous scrub, tuning in to the silence—once filled by chatter, yelling, screeches, or giggles.
It is Tuesday.
Read MoreRead MoreConditioned against healing the systems oppressing us, I sit here, too. The spice hits my tongue. I love its hotness, the dare of trying more on the next taco.
Unwavering in my tiredness, delight, anger, angst. The bigness of feelings, embraced. Familiarity with oppression is normalized, to where I am chastised for any attempt to bring relief to mi gente by asking those in power to remove their heavy feet off our necks. But we keep asking, demanding, resisting, and flying.
