White is a forgetful state of mind,
as in blank slate,
erase your own histories,
assimilate your differences,
swallow your stories.

You can choose not to live this way.
I am grateful to those of you who choose not to live this way.

To the knowledge keepers and knowledge seekers,
the ones with the caverns in your chests:
thank you for spitting out stories.

For insolence.
After 5 generations of eating
white food, you still hold your heads up high,
and ask, why,
should I swallow this?

For gentleness.
For sifting through histories with shaking hands
until you can hold them without breaking

For subversion.
Submerged, you’ve learned
to float,
to shapeshift
to slip out of skin
and swim upstream.

For persistence.
Abandoned, you’ve patiently
tended tidal pools
until meaning floods in.

For grace.
You’ve let knowledge stick to you
like burrs
carrying it
to safer ground,
where some autumn the
greatgranddaughters will
gather for the harvest.


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