vines and dead trees grow around us,
encapsulate our souls and even disease our minds;
reaching even corners we cannot see.
not beginning now, no.
not beginning before a rudimentary illusion called roe, no.
not before the first, not the greatest depression, no.
not scrolled in a document older than anyone person alive today, no.
when were the seeds sewn?
how long ago was it that these patriarchal plants began to grow?
did these exist before we did?
where were you the last time you felt safe from the tines and poison spreading through the ‘foundations’ that we established?
when is the last time you felt the thorn so deeply in your siding, blinding pain; such a solemn and lonely rage, you remember?
does there exist a structure in this community, in fact, that has not been penetrated by the hands of gentrification or the grip of tendrils of wild and unruly weeds?
were these seeds were sewn inside of us?
have we become what we so desperately needed protection from?
or is it just more comfortable for the majority to tell the fucking story that way?
Gracefully Written 