Thursday, December 2, 2010

Our people

**Warning this poem deals with issues of violence that may be triggering to some readers.**

By Anonymous

Our people are peacemakers.
Late nights spent curled under covers,
Nights when flashing lights brought fear of who would be left.
We have scars to trace our fear of conflict.
We grew into people who aren’t worth the fight.

We are community makers.
We make spaces that bear witness to trauma.
We grasp onto things we don’t know how to hold
Because we’ve held hotter before and
The calices haven’t gone away.

We are backroom people.
Tucked behind the dim glare of computer screens,
Behind fantasical scenery backdrops
Making things go smoothly and hoping not to be noticed
By the wrong people.

Sometimes our people have fought too much to know when to stop
Have spent too many night muscles-tensed
In rooms that have never been homes.
Sometimes violence is too familiar to be strange
To our people.

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