the path of resistance

I house this tiny dark speckle somewhere in the long, winding hallways of my heart. Though small, it echoes – louder than my mother’s cries in the middle of the night when she didn’t know when she’d see her son and husband again. This echoing speckle, though an alien – like the first time I sat in an American class room in 6th grade, sinking into my chair, not knowing the words to the anthem as the rest stood with their hands on their heart to recite it – it feels far too familiar, like the tremor I feel at the tip of my fingers every time the man on TV claims that the people who sacrificed everything to get here are the same people who want to destroy it.

the path of resistance

I house this tiny dark speckle somewhere in the long, winding hallways of my heart. Though small, it echoes – louder than my mother’s cries in the middle of the night when she didn’t know when she’d see her son and husband again. This echoing speckle, though an alien – like the first time I sat in an American class room in 6th grade, sinking into my chair, not knowing the words to the anthem as the rest stood with their hands on their heart to recite it – it feels far too familiar, like the tremor I feel at the tip of my fingers every time the man on TV claims that the people who sacrificed everything to get here are the same people who want to destroy it.

Faux camel jacket by MAKE ME CHIC
Pants by Dezzal

Photos by Beth Kotz

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