with amber waves
with grains of sand
so less in time we stand
holding hands with blood on them
while we bite the ones that feed.
Our mothers' milk,
a dairy pharm
a monsanto souvenir.
a backlash of opinions
of decisions to make things
more equal than others.
My relationship with you is "complicated"
I love your land.
I love how your people say hi to me
and welcome me home again.
I love how I can admire my curves from a friendly mile in the clothes that I choose,
how I can say the words that make grown men flinch because
I love the English language.
I love that here I can have a voice,
even if no one feels like listening.
I love having parents who worked so hard,
who taught me to try and be humble.
I'm tired of complaining. It's all we do. It's a form of suffering.