Lemons and Justice

I believe in lemons,
plucked with fissured hands,
mixed with sugar and love and secrets,
baked in a steaming pie.

I believe in rain
and the smell of damp earth,
copper and grief and tears,
forging a home inside this body

I believe in this country,
this soil, founded on prejudice,
forged from bones in shackles,
built on sneers of cold command.

I believe in justice,
in our voices, in theirs.
the cacophony growing louder
and louder and louder,
until
they
hear.

I believe in you,
in me, in us.
hands tracing collarbones,
fingers dancing in palms.

I believe in strawberries,
picked from my own backyard,
grown with hope and faith and longing,
blood red and sickly sweet.




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