“I have a problem, a predicament, a conundrum; / maybe you can help. / It’s not unique to me; there must be someone else / Suffering in this way that I do. / Yes, I have a problem, but it affects you, too.”
– Nia Douglas, Where I See the Sun
Like Nia, my problem, though collective, is based on words —
a language,
a desire for connection,
a reaching for dialogue,
with an audience willing to listen.
Unlike Nia, my problem is not skin or hair.
It is the predicament of silence.
It is the conundrum of a refusal to listen.
It is the barrier to connection and understanding.
Nia has words, “But words about race never want to be heard.”
I have words, but words about words are still-birthed in the mind,
never reaching the tongue.
So maybe you can help to reverse the conundrum.
Maybe you can help to free the problem,
to uncage the silence with your presence’s assent.
Attend to the sounds of a powerful exhalation of poetry.
Let the affect swallow us all,
the effect of unity
redefining our existence.
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