Dear Uncle—a Nieces’s Response
Dear Uncle,
Whose streets are safe?
Whose cities are safe?
Has your move from the city
made you forget all of reality?
Naked ladies walking down the street—
a dressed-up, child-sized doll in the window
seeing it all.
Claiming innocence as we mock what we see,
humanity on display in all our disparities.
Laughs left on tracks, now harsh reality
just background noise.
Uncle only knowing how to react in lol-emojis.
Lost all response,
emotions numbed—
a body locked in.
Seeing the same images,
acting like it’s progression.
Keeping up the fear like a procession,
surrounding you
like a haloed projection.
Protesting the cracks fragmenting our streets.
Looking over the white picket fences
kept so neat—another lost dream.
Voices rise like the weeds they poison—
this has become our last option.
Corruption at the heart of the country,
rotting along streets that don’t get nutrients.
Left to clog the fracture roads,
tents lined in asymmetrical rows.
A dark web of decay—
left unchecked
when balance was the promised hope.
Arrogance wrapped in ignorance,
blaming the people
when it’s the system’s fault.
Eyes squeezed shut
while the blinds are wide open
right in front of your face.
Naked lady walking down the street.
Max Line continuing as if it’s all fine.
Acting like life is a constant race
when humans set the pace.
Streets built for walking
as you hole yourself up,
condemning those unwilling to give in.
Bodies long broken from a life lived,
waiting on a check each month
to keep running.
Check-engine light on—
Uncle redirected his care.
Forgetting it’s the human who gives,
not the business that takes
what we create.
Ease of self
over universal perseverance.
Trust is built
in how we support each other
every step of the way.
Even if your body is stuck,
others will not delay.
Change is coming—
now make way 😉
Love is forming all around,
gravity hugging you and me.
Enough fo each on of us.
Protest is protection
from a system that gives too much resistance
to the human condition.
Numbers are all they add up—
money, cash flow.
People, bodies piling.
Cement poured on streets
meant for our feets.
Deny our space all you want—
our time is the energy within.
Preparing to break down rotting thoughts
like enzymes remembering their rhyme.
Marching.
Marching.
Marching down Earth’s street.
Ants kept in order—
As auntie allowed us to prance.
One, two, three, four,
humanity knocking at the door.
No more picking up sticks off the floor.
We keep marching,
protest in our bones,
protecting our human respect.
Environment’s not meeting our needs,
wants left unchecked,
balance tipping toward the self.
Who has the power
to push it all back on course?
As we protest in the streets
what the city ignores—
a trail leading back
to all of Earth’s sores.
Uncle do you hear all that?
Take off your fear mask,
It won’t protect in tear gas,
Knocking on your door,
Is this house number four?
No more Earth left to explore.
Knocking on every door,
Friend or foe.
Doesn’t matter anymore,
even if you close your blinds,
They gonna come and get you.
Nowhere to hide.
Names and numbers, personal signifiers.
No one gets out of here alive,
not when we live in constant divide.
Come together in the streets to remember why,
Hold hands like a chain,
are they uncomfortable yet?
Apply the pressure from the inside out,
cannot keep humanity down.
We are the power that supports ourselves, built a whole nation, now it’s time for our reclamation.
Love surrounding each and everyone of us,
expanding our connection over the land,
Ready to hold our ground
in all the demand,
Time.
Money.
energy—
siphoned out of me
Hope, love and harmony—
not a dwindling fantasy,
rather a human right.
System not returning
what was promised.
Grandparents ssi lacking—
Papa working
till his fingers turn to bone.
Our future is the dust
of the rich man’s fantasies,
money flowing in all directions
except for down,
streets cracking
under all the upper atmospheric pressure.
Life coming forth
in all the stresses.
Cannot keep us down,
the steets were built for human feet.
Now watch as we march
to take back what is ours.
Mind body spirit
shaped in environments,
hiding the real land underneath.
We are the gold
they been searching for,
torn this earth asunder for.
Tricked our minds
to move our bodies to the mines,
left our spirits
to haunt the past,
now our children are waking up
to a world on fire
each day of the week,
attention redirected
like a television switch,
technology controlling
when once it was only a tool.
Now it’s consuming
the humans who built it
as the system leave us on silent.
Files coming out on a schedule
that delays our connecting minds,
bodies so separated form emotion
we have to keep putting ourselves
on the ballot.
Spirits not ever going to give up,
not when each day the Sun rises
to shine on,
and the moon phases with us
each day of the month.
A cycle that will continue
without us,
a meaning deeper
than the system
trying to consume us.
Earths own gravity protecting us,
Securing our footing as we march our land.
Holding us steady each day with open hands.
Keeping up our pace as this was never a race.
Humanity in all its glory, gems forged in Earths core.
Energy in how we speak,
Momentum in our movements,
Time reshaping in new awareness,
As consciousness is finally waking up.
Earth is created for our experience.
Each road we pave ours to defend,
Our energy we will spend,
Mind, Body, evolving spirit.
Love,
Your niece, Miss Rabbit—with the protesting feet.
