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Anthem?

Written January 24, 2013, but wanted to be shared today.

The instructor said,

Go home and write
a page tonight.
And let that page come out of you—
Then, it will be true.

–Langston Hughes

I was going to write about Girls and Lena Dunham this week, about how her recent Golden Globe win spurred me to add the show to my "List of Things that I'm Watching Solely So that I Can Legitimately Bitch about How Unrelentingly White They Are." I got about 500 words down before I realized that I was bored–with myself.

So I shifted
around on a page
white as snow
and

I
drifted

and wondered
where my words
should go.

I sat

and

I stared

at

the

wide

open

page

till

this

pain

in

my chest

sang,

this bird in a cage
that was frightened
of me
setting it free
to be what it thought it
should
could
would
might
be.

But, really?

Who am I
to deny
that her wings ever fly,
to hold back from my your our eyes
all her truths and her lies.

So today I’ll just say
what she wants me to say

that I’m hurt when I see my brown margined away,
no big part of the art that we love and award
'less I’m shackled or serving or part of the horde
and the hustle and bustle, the noise of the city.

And Langston was right
‘cause my page is my page
and try as I might
it will 
never be
ever be
cannot be white.

What that means for me now is anyone’s guess
but the weight in my chest feels
that little bit less
so I think
I’ll just do
what I seem to do best

let the bird sing her song
as it shatters her nest.

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