free the land

I always feel closer to death when I’m in the sky

I don’t know if it’s because religions idea around heaven & hell or the sudden realization that I have no clue how planes work

even though I feel closest to my ancestors when I’m in nature, I guess that doesn’t include the clouds

I think it’s because my people were made for dirt and water on our skin and under our nails

Indigenous hands that learned the lands and rivers and spoke them into language

African hands that turned soil into survival to carry us generation after generation

they loved the ground because it answered them
because it fed them, buried them, remembered them

I don’t want heaven

I want land returned

I want my body back in a place

that didn’t & don’t need to be owned to be sacred

I want colonization called what it is

theft dressed up as destiny or like something “meant to be” that nobody asked for-

genocide written in law and scripture

land back from men who draw “god given” boarders yet never spoke our lands language

I want it now
in this body
on this soil.

revolution in our lifetime