Why was I born a European-American instead of a Native American or an Irishwoman? I’m detached from the land. I will never belong in the places I live or live in the places where I belong.

I am so uncomfortable in my white skin with my American accent. What is this hybrid person that I represent? This offspring of colonial violence and heir to white supremacy who can’t even afford to live in the place that her ancestors stole for her?

What is wrong with this world, and what can be done about it?

I’m afraid I am not being responsible when I ask that question, not nobly trying to right a wrong for the sake of justice. I just want to feel comfortable in the earthen skin that surrounds me. I just want to know that I belong.

And I don’t. I don’t fully belong anywhere.

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Emily Dickinson

The volcano

Tender music

Discovering together

This is what I deserve

I know it in my gut

Is it too late?

Because that would be a tragedy

Beyond compare

Like a world without her poems.

Imagine.

How many other Emily Dickinsons

Will we never know existed?

What is it that inclines a person

To squelch the life-force of another?

Does it scare them?

Do they think there is not enough life-force to go around?

The pain of it

Is too much to bare

And so instead

We disappear

And then we are like empty shells

What purpose does life have then

But to find ourselves again?

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