Catching fireflies

A poem on gentrification/cultural appropriation

This poem is inspired by an analogy i read recently on a Tumblr post(which i can’t recollect being sourced), whereby gentrification/cultural appropriation — was likened to catching fireflies in a glass jar. Caught and trapped so as to enjoy the benefits and wonderment of their light illuminating the dark, without any thought that by morning these fireflies will have died from suffocation.

maybe you don’t see the me that is I

perhaps you need not question why

my light still shines

though by morning my body will die

do you ever listen and hear me cry

with every snowflake falling from high

all purple raindrops that leave the sky

their wonderment so clear to your blind eye

yet indifferent to my essence you walk on by

maybe you’re numb and can’t feel my vibe

or deaf to these heart beats of dynamite

can a soul be on fire for all this time

without igniting difficult questions in your mind

you want me to move along with your times

when i just need me to stay alive

Hey there I'm D. Writer/Poet/Mother - I know a little Tai Chi, but my Kung Fu is weak - beautifully flawed

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