love

Let me tell you about the force of my love.
It is fierce and uncompromising and sometimes it is even violent.
But not violent in an angry way,
Violent in a Lady way.
If you don't shut your door tight, and block out all the light,
my love will break it down, rush through the ground, and knock you around.
I'll try to lock up as well, to block the swell.
I am adept at holding it back. I am quick to rope it in.
Disguising isn't lying. But I keep on trying

Last week I volunteered at a local nonprofit called New Door Ventures. New Door Ventures provides job-training, employment, and one-on-one support to youth with histories of homelessness, substance abuse, and extreme poverty. In short, NDV gives youth a second chance, and a helping hand in the somewhat formidable job market. My part was simple. I showed up with my Mary Poppins bag of goods and got to work, cutting and styling the hair of the kids involved in the program.

I am she as you are she as you are me and we are all together.
We are a community,
a family.
I am your sister and your daughter and your mother
and I love you.
You are my brother.
You are my boy.
My girl.
I will reach my arms out as wide as I can
And I will hug you and your hurt and your joy
As hard as I can and for as long as I can.
Until you shake me off, almost uncomfortably,
because it is hard to know what to do when you are
squeezed that forcefully.
I want you to know that you are beautiful.

I was walking along Union Street last week when I passed a homeless man begging for change. You have probably seen him around, too, if you ever walk along Union. He is one of the few homeless in the area, and in the summer, his skin blisters into a mauvey-black. He is tall, lanky, and has a dreaded afro. I mean that his afro is mixed with dreads, and not that he has a hairstyle that I fear. One eye looks at you and one eye looks just behind you; I presume he was born this way. He does not appear to be crazy, nor does he appear to be dangerous in any way.

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