On Being Pt. 2

Jan 1

Written By Hermon

Wind

I am the dirty kind

Like those girls who’ve seen too many dusty days

Whored themselves out to the certainty of the sun

Uncertainty of the road

The dirty kind

That wake God from his sleep

With fat hips, fat breasts, and Oceans between the thighs

Thunder

With grievances against “niceness” and affinity for those who bare the sword

I am the dirty kind

In constant state of weeping

For those who sacrifice

Rage

For decency

Lightening

And insist on forgetting

Truth about the dirty girls

Murdered in stories told by cowards

Who running from their own reflections

Blinded themselves with blood

But I remember

And I will tell

Of the seeds that were planted

By dirty girls who dared

To speak.

There is an epidemic of erasure. Forced invisibility is not compatible with life. We exist because our stories say we do. Let’s tell them.

Awareness is medicine. Until next time, be like water my friends…reflect and flow.

1. What have you sacrificed for decency?

2. What stories do you need to unearth?

3. What would be more possible if you brought them into the light?

4. What stories have you been invested in keeping buried?

5. For the sake of what?

On Shadows