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for

Lajuana Lampkins

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the volume of love, tenderness, peace, comfort, safety, and security

that she so profoundly deserves

might never be offered in the sustained abundance

requisite

for her to heal

from our

sins against her and hers,

our sins, once or twice removed, from us — or so we proudly imagine//

we failed her and hers — over and over again

in our refusal to just stop

in our refusal to just start

in our refusal to just not

so her and hers’ trauma untreated became epigenetic, chronic, lethal

her sorrow and rage manifest in righteous and rightful litanies against our society, our systems, and the falseness of our lives //

because of us, because of the world we’ve built, maintain or co-sign for privilege

her and hers’ lives remain

unfair
unstable
unsafe

un “forfilled”

she has not for one single moment stopped working and fighting to live and thrive for her and hers

ease, rest and respite are not her companions

her pursuit for her and hers truth and justice — and for universal justice and truth is unrelenting and well-beyond humbling //

let none of us proclaim her “strong” or “survivor” — those titles are unwanted blood medals forced around her neck standing atop a podium made of her ancestors’ and son’s bones and of her own

she is more,

so very much more,

more

than her 66 year-long sentence of struggle, more than this 404 year-long American genocide and apartheid

she is an activist, a mother-warrior, a revolutionary

but

all she ever wanted was to be

a baby, a child, a daughter, a sister, a woman, a mother, a lover, a friend, an aunt, a grandmother, an artist, a poet, a writer, a philosopher, a scientist, an historian, a teacher, an advocate, a protector, a provider,

and

to be human

to be human

to be human

the same,

no less, no more

just human

like you

like me

like Her.

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