My first news poem - Arc in Public Square
The arc of the moral universe bends
It doesn't bend on its own
It has, historically, only been bent by the weight of Black and brown bodies
Bent by the weight of their whole lives on their backs as our Indigenous Ancestors were death marched off their land
Bent by the weight of Black people, enslaved and “free,” hung from trees
I wrote this before the Big Beautiful Bill passed, although there was never really a point where anyone could have reasonably thought that Republicans would do the right thing, “this time.” Pearls were clutched, garments were rended, red lines were drawn, re-drawn, and ultimately, erased.
So we are, yet again, poised to destroy more Black and brown bodies. Not because of Trump voters, but because feckless Democrats have spent my entire adult life bending to corporations, moving right to “work across the aisle,” failing to message when they do govern, and choosing to focus group and poll their way out of governance the rest of the time.
The arc may bend toward justice, but whose justice, and just FOR who?
Who is deserving of humanity, and who can be overlooked, nay erased?
It’s not easy to bend the arc, not because it’s heavy, but because it’s slippery, coated in blood drawn by whiteness, tears shed in anguish, never joy
Newsletter image by Hannes Wolf on Unsplash