A culture birthed from oppression:
forced drama of boisterous absurdity
forced dull zombie like obedience.
Have they “got ya!”?
There is a space in between:
neither this, nor that.
not egoically contrived
nor beaten down by submission,
but burning a.l.i.v.e.
The bright colors of fall
from the trees lined neatly in a row.
that can sometimes gently lull me to sleep
in their greens and browns,
are grabbing me and shaking me,
alerting me of unique beauty and
ever present aliveness
that oppression and absurdity have not killed… yet.
Thank you to the trees
for reminding me
to a home
I never left.