Updated: Jun 3
Poetry is not my forte. However, while trying to heal and process my experiences, sometimes poem like strings of words are what comes out. They're not eloquent. They're not pretty. They are real. This spoken piece was written a couple years ago while on vacation in California. I got in the car with my cousin to drive to the airport and it was screaming in my head. I asked if she minded if I used my phone's voice recorder to take down what was trying to tear my brain apart. I then spent my time on the flight home typing it up.
Last year as we celebrated our countries freedom, I decided it was time to celebrate my own. Today I will observe that celebration again. Here's to freedom. May we have it. May we honor it. May we cherish it. Collectively and individually.