bottom of the circle

Because we’re halfway through NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that reflects on the nature of being in the middle of something.

the cycle moves top to bottom to top
east to west, back east again
now it feels we are lost in white space
invisible to modernity
it is impossible to imagine
a structure that could hold us all
that could be tender shelter for black life

maybe in the long gone
we rode the top of the cycle without awareness in small villages where the care was mutual, miracle
but we were at the bottom of the cycle
for generations

and then cycle turned also sideways
moving from left to right as we prayed
let there be
room to survive this
let there be
more life in this direction
even if I don’t know the way

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