The white sparkly fireworks + potato salad slumber

A poem on the 4th of July in the midst of fascism

i grew up loving
the white sparkly
fireworks the most

the ones that sizzled
and fell from the sky
long after the explosion

the fourth of july
used to be
hotdogs and parades
watermelon and sprinklers

but how does one
celebrate our country’s
independence in a season
where democracy is so fearful
to terrified adults that they
lock up beloveds
in concentration camps
and

laugh

deep rage simmers
hearts are in shreds
powerlessness tempts

dissociation lulls us
into potato salad slumber
while we perform
the story of independence
while the guts of our country
dissolve in the fragility
of ego and fear

today i choose to
make sense of this
jarring chapter
by lighting sparklers
cooking burgers
walking the beach
knowing a strong wave
is rising up in
determined reply

the resistance is real
the revolution is here
evil never wins
love is forever

stronger

trembling fearful hands
wave tiny american flags
not in denial and silence
but in fierce love of
what we’re still fighting for

may the fourth
wake us up
again
and again
and again
and again

we the people…

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Books

• There She Is: Love Notes on Finding Home

• Still Here: A Poetry Memoir on Grief & Love

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Sharing

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The Thread

The Thread is a weekly-ish newsletter where we untangle the stories that make us who we are so we can show up to our lives with spacious presence, brave honesty, radical love & wild curiosity.