when my grandchildren ask me poem

when my grandchildren ask me

what it was like to be alive at the same time as

George Floyd

and then wonder “what did you do?”

i want this to be the story that gets told:

this narrative of healing and restoration and the beauty of humanity and justice-

the children of my children’s children

will know

that somewhere in their ancestry

a bridge was built

brick by brick

over the defeated beasts of white supremacy and patriarchy.

they will know the story of how their

bodies and hearts and souls and spirits are connected

to revolution, to victory, to love.

they will know the stories of how we won

and what we lost,

and who we lost,

in our construction of the bridge.

when this story gets told-

my lineage will understand their

collective place in this work,

their reclaiming of their humanity,

the joy from their own healing


previous generations walked close to the problems


even closer to the solutions,

and brick by brick

they believed they would win.

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