The Streets are Talking

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Image credit – Clay Banks

The streets are on fire.
Smoke coats our tongues
like iron in our blood.

We walk for our rights
as weedy paths like barbed
wire lacerate our ankles.

God is in our shouts.
Demands for justice pour
forth smelling of lilies.

Winds of hope on the horizon
are felt like cherry blossom,
delicate and beautiful

but not short lived.

 

My Voice is My Weapon

My Voice is My Weapon.

Starting to write the Living Wild Studios Studio Notes today for my subscribers, I created a zine.

I’ve been struggling to put into words, public words what I feel about the current state of the world, particularly in relation to the murders, police brutality ad racial injustice which is happening in America, right now and has been for the past 11 days, or 400 years.

Please read this zine and share if you must. But do something else and more to make sure the rally cry #BlackLivesMatter, doesn’t fall on deaf ears and closed hearts.