Sometimes I get overwhelmed, open up my notebook, and allow whatever jumbled thoughts, hopes, and fears that are trapped inside my head to tumble out onto the page and proceed to call it "poetry". Considering this process, I'm sure it's not hard to believe that much of my "poetry notebook" is filled with nonsensical scribbles, expletives, and unfinished thoughts.

I recently flipped through said poetry notebook and amongst the above-mentioned scribbles, expletives, and thoughts, I happened upon a poem I wrote four years ago. Four years isn't really a long time in the grand scheme of the universe, but it is interesting how relevant the ideas in this poem are to today's cultural atmosphere; how, seemingly, nothing has really changed.

This particular cultural moment has been defined by people who are tired (and justifiably so) of the continued fight against the illusion of a promised America they have yet to experience. I will never be able to fully empathize with this exhaustion; I have experienced a lot of the beauty of America and have bypassed quite a bit of the dangerous and ugly due to a plethora of factors, including the family, home and community I was born into, that I have no control over.

I do not know how to reconcile the blessings and privileges in my life with the hardships in the lives of others. I do not know how to use those blessings and privileges to best bless the world around me. Those are issues I could dive quite deeply into (and then probably swim around in for the rest of my life) but this was supposed to be a brief poetry introduction that has already rambled longer than I intended so now is not the time.

I do believe that, for better or for worse, our current cultural moment reflects a different America than we lived in four years ago; an America that is still overwhelmingly divided but perhaps more aware of the roots of our division and the importance of listening to and respecting the voices we (we as individuals, communities, and society as a whole) have historically ignored or silenced.

Although this statement may reflect the youth, privilege, and naivety that saturate my life and perspective, I don't think the awareness and change that has come about as a result of the grandeur of our current cultural moment, particularly changes within majority white institutions with regards to racial injustice, is insignificant. Maybe not yet enough, but perhaps not insignificant. This active change doesn't excuse the hurt of past transgressions, but it does provide hope that tomorrow could be better.

Okay, unsurprisingly, I sat down to write a quick introduction and it turned into an amalgamation of thoughts without much resolution. Alas, such is life. Without further ado, here's a poem I wrote a couple years ago. Godspeed my friends.