This piece is fitting to kick off my series of writing for Mental Illness Awareness Month
We who are darker than blue are consigned to endlessly gather our body parts, our psyches from the four corners of the earth. We have been scattered like bread crumbs and devoured as such. I can’t find a trace of me….I am in a bird’s treacherous beak, I am trampled beneath a small animals scrambling, scurrying feet. I am no where and everywhere. I am in the belly of the earth. I am hands digging and endlessly gathering.
We who are darker than blue are forever archaeologists, searching for ourselves, our tombs..our birthplaces..our homes.
I am in no mood for dissection. To have my skull cracked like a bluebird’s egg and peered into.
I can’t find my car keys. I did not sleep well. These same nightmares that wait until dawn to unravel and leave me torn between fight or flight far too early in the morning, these same nightmares…
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