Somewhere in all the movement
I set down the megaphone,
Still hearing the echo of my own voice
As it traveled
North, East, South, West,
On to, up and down Main street;
Social leaders don’t choose
the precise moment
When they thus become
“Accidental” leadership
–The moment chooses them;
Nor do they choose
Exactly when
their time eclipses;
Social injustice
Is a warfare,
and of daily heartbreak;
The activist by Call
Resides on this ground zero,
Tending, carrying, soothing and rallying,
In rotation
With other ethical co-conspirators,
A Rotation
To protect the already traumatized
From too
Too much;
Gradually, I took my leave
When the marches thinned,
And logistics began
to overshadow the purpose;
The march marches on
In different capacities,
As it has always,
My prayer is that our call
And the response
Forever is remembered,
And flesh tones
Like and unlike mine
find purpose, place, and responsibility still
In the movement
Of heart,
Of calling out injustice
invoking community love,
And keeping the justice system
In check
With a social justice
And response;
A leader still,
My call
Is a labor of love,
A different hat I will wear for now,
As I heal and grow,
An injustice-weary heart.


I am needed
At the front
Sign in hand,
voice loud;
I am needed,
Here I stand
6 feet apart,
We make a stand,
I am needed,
My life,
My skin,
As we teach
Our brethren
How to see,
Not my color,
But their own,
I am needed,
But I must be careful,
Weaponizes good intentions,
Turning learners
Into hungry cannibals,
Devouring the teacher,
Despite the lesson,
I am needed,
I turn this thought over,
I am needed,
For many reasons,
But first I am
Needed for me,
For self, for love,
For family,
I am needed,
And so I must,
Alot my teachings,
To those I trust

Juvenile Activists

A generation stands
In prayer,

From false idols
Long praised they demand sacrifice,
Their goddess is tired,
Is crying,
Is bleeding,
Is burning,
And still the idols won’t hear,
won’t see,
Won’t give
An inch, an ounce of fossil fuel empathy,

They were always false,
But propped up to heavenly heights,
Were worshipped
By those before
for the coin,
The vanity, the luxury,
The illusory gifts
Such “gods” would provide.

The juvenile,
Have much to lose,
In fact they’ve lost it.
Nothing to lose.
The false idols should fear,
The young, as they worship
The true Goddess.


I want a porcelain mug cup of coffee,
Or even make that tea,
To sit again in a plush chair
And discuss what this life means,
Let’s stroll through ways to save the world,
You know we both have the plans,
Let’s imagine we can solve it all,
With our poetic verse and hot drink in hand