#2 Own Drummer
This is poem number 2 of my dream memoir about love, land, failure and POC collective organizing. It is inspired by Octavia Butler’s Earthseed verse “All that you touch you change. All that you change changes you. The only lasting truth is change. God is change.” Turn the volume all the way up!
I would love to hear your thoughts on change and touch and land. How do we deal with the lasting truth of change when so much of what we are organizing for as POC has to do with forms of stability that have been taken from us by displacement and violence? Have you ever made choices in your organizing that have to do with just not wanting to have to change everything again (move to a new place? leave a job? challenge a community you have helped build?)
As always, infinite love. And if you want to support the Dark Sciences: People of Color Dream Retreat you can donate here:
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