My skin is now too thin.
it cracks on my feet and bleeds
from pressure rising inside damaged knees,
throwing legs into a spin
and buckling under the strain
threatening falls again and again.
I hold on with tightened fists
gathered by my side, mislaid
and held in check, afraid
of striking out instead of balancing
against the forces dragging me down.
My body mimics my emotional gown
caught against my legs by autocratic winds
that bind my forward motion,
strangling reality and truthful notions,
knocking my legs out from under me,
demeaning my humanity
with white supremacy.
All I know is how hard it is to stand;
but, how necessary it is in order to outrun
the gerrymandering brigands
who would see democracy undone.
So, on my leg I place a brace
to hold my leg steady
while I rest upon the couch,
heal and make certain I am ready
when it is time to vote hate out.
annarino writes 