
I am
afraid. Folded in by the weight
of postcards and calls
links and 140 characters.
Always thinking about the invisible scales of equality
between the unborn, the refugee, the immigrant, and those not living in privilege.
I am
certain that I have fingers
toes, a heart with blood pumping
slowly through my veins —
as do you,
and them,
and us, but those that lead find
different ways to say
You Don’t Belong.
I question
my ability
my strength for this
test.
Yet I know that one cannot expect miracles
And God cannot do all the work
And so —
Although I am afraid, I am certain. Although I question, I am ready.
I can be brave. I must be brave. I will be brave.

Whenever I begin writing my annual New Year’s post I take a look at what I wrote the year before. Here is what I said in January 2016: