She didn't think herself a racist. She'd had black school friends, worked with black women at the restaurant, and watched Oprah daily.
But when her seven-year-old, white daughter brought home a
...
[+]
Now, had you ever cared to inform me
Of what it means to waste careless years
Wishing that I was anywhere but here,
Perhaps I could embrace this idea of new-age wholeness
As one forcibly embraces discordant notes in utterly forgettable symphonies,
With eager hands clasped in anticipation of a return to what was promised.
And yet, I don't crave an escape from the comfort of
The home I found in the feeling of your skin pressed
Tightly against mine; a quiet rebellion.
For once, I beg of you,
I don't need you to lead me to a way out of here.
I just need you to sit here with me,
Unmistakably taking up space.
Of what it means to waste careless years
Wishing that I was anywhere but here,
Perhaps I could embrace this idea of new-age wholeness
As one forcibly embraces discordant notes in utterly forgettable symphonies,
With eager hands clasped in anticipation of a return to what was promised.
And yet, I don't crave an escape from the comfort of
The home I found in the feeling of your skin pressed
Tightly against mine; a quiet rebellion.
For once, I beg of you,
I don't need you to lead me to a way out of here.
I just need you to sit here with me,
Unmistakably taking up space.