Reid@YWP

Ode to those that make life into gold

that bring us some sparkle as we grow old

Ode to the places, friends, and small things

to which credit's unequal to the joy that they bring

I was walking through the bush when I stumbled upon a quaint fairy dwelling built into the surrounding oaks.

Suppress women

Suppress people of color  

Suppress the vote

Lie about it 

Lie on TV

Lie to yourself 

Lose 

lie about that too

fresh out of the plane,

weary eyed and sickly pale, 

I trudge.

deep within my suitcase, I carry a passport I don't want to show to anyone, 

even if they ask for ID. 

I wander through the woods. The day is cool and dry, with a wind blowing that smells of wood and fallen leaves. The bracken has begun to brown, though the Joe pye weed and goldenrod still stand strong.

Breathe. 
In. Out. 

A calm breath, 
a solid moment stuck 
in the middle of chaos.

Count to a number you call 
lucky. Every number is lucky to somebody.