Adjusting Focus

I planned to upload a very different blog post today, but at the last minute, decided I had to write about the recent events on police brutality. As one of my goals for this blog is to create a supportive, welcoming community for all, I want to express to you the heaviness many of you are feeling- but from my perspective as a person of color*. My news feed has been filled with white people posting about police brutality and being "white allies," and while I appreciate the support, I was reminded of a poem I wrote a few months ago on the frustration I often carry in situations like this. i don't need a white person trying to fight for me i don't need your white savior complex to rescue me or your guilt from the way you've treated my people to finally move you to take action   where were you when i sat on the bus and a girl told her friends to not sit next to me because i am brown? where were you when i was followed in a store because a worker thought i looked suspi...

Every night, I take some time to read poems from some of my favorite poetry books I have. I've been marking some that particularly stick out to me with sticky notes. My books end up looking pretty worn and messy, especially with bent edges of various colored sticky notes adorning their pages. One night, I sat staring at the book in front of me, and found beauty in the messiness I held. It was an unusual feeling, because anytime things are out of order or not perfect, I feel uneasy, frustrated, like the world is closing in around me. My mind is unable to focus on anything else until I feel settled. I wrote down several thoughts I had about my OCD (obsessive-compulsive disorder) and how these sticky notes were some sort of symbol to me about overcoming my obsession with perfection. It rules pretty much every aspect of my life, but at the end of my notes I wrote, "OCD doesn't have to rule my love for poetry." I then wrote a poem with the opening line being, "Poetry ...