To be a black, non-binary, queer, immigrant is
to live many lives, as you see the world through a
multitude of lenses, encompassing a myriad of
lived experiences. The world is no longer fixed
in a box of a pair but an ever evolving
continuum of galaxies. Burning bright with
other ways of being. Burning bright with a
desire to live. Burning bright to explode as to
be seen and loved. Some days I resent
visibility, as countless of us didn’t make it, into
and out of, having to learn how to live through
this system of one or the other. But then I
won’t be there to feel their glorious splendor
as they shine so royal.

5 thoughts on “Symbiosis

  1. This verse of yours brought to mind a Langston Hughes poem:


    My old man’s a white old man
    And my old mother’s black.
    If ever I cursed my white old man
    I take my curses back.

    If ever I cursed my black old mother
    And wished she were in hell,
    I’m sorry for that evil wish
    And now I wish her well.

    My old man died in a fine big house.
    My ma died in a shack.
    I wonder where I’m gonna die,
    Being neither white nor black?

    and so it goes…

    Charlie (aka slpmartin)


  2. Hi Niki,
    How are you doing? Its Aunty Landy! Understanding we are all enduring this life changing VIRUS and life as we new it, I am letting you know I am here as a listening ear for emotional and moral support should you need it!
    Stay strong and safe, follow the professional Doctors advice you will be okay!!

    Liked by 1 person

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