Poem: My Soul Is Freedom

***TW: Self-harm

Do you hear the echoes of screams?

Do you feel the fear that blocks us from our greatness?

Do you smell the burning of flesh?

Do you hear the children call out their mother's name?

Do you see what I see?

The black, burned, and unrecognizable bodies.

Swaying side to side in the oak trees.

Do you hear the words of strange fruit?

Do you regret not slitting your own wrist?

Do you regret not running away?

Taking the chance of freedom while it rests at your fingertips.

Fear based words embedded like roots within your skin

How can we arise when we're already dead?