Is anyone listening? (a poem)
I flay myself
on the altar of art,
cut down to the bone,
break every last part.
I write it on paper,
type it into my phone,
share it with the world,
and feel utterly alone.
I flay myself
on the altar of art,
cut down to the bone,
break every last part.
I write it on paper,
type it into my phone,
share it with the world,
and feel utterly alone.
We are still unable to protect ourselves
and our trans siblings from the destructive power of propaganda, bigotry, hatred, and violence that are still part
of daily life for marginalized communities around the world.
The promise kept them,
hope sustained them,
every day a little less.
A heavy storm is brewing,
out on horizon’s line.
Panic sets as we worry how,
to prepare ourselves in time.
© 2009-2025 E.L. Redwine