Art

My art can show you who I am better than I can tell you

It’s in the spaces of every word I write

The words I say

The ones I don’t 

It’s in the movement I make with my body to the tune of drums that can only be described as ancestral

It’s in the research I throw myself at because I’m dying to understand what once was and how it got so fucked up and how much is there to salvage and how much is completely lost and how can I showcase that to you so you can see with your eyes what I already know but need “substantial proof” of

It’s in my hopes and dreams

It’s in the way I carry this unspeakable weight on my back that isn’t even mine to begin with but the remnants of an era gone by

An era that affects every cell of my being 

My blood flows like the water in the ocean

The water I call home 

The water that was disturbed by greedy people and displaced 

But it holds memory 

It holds the memory of what once was and what will be 

And it will be there for me as I follow the stream to the knowledge the land can provide me