To write is to think, and to think feel, and that I've been trying to conceal. My heart is heavy and my mind uneasy, and there are very few to whom I may reveal the truth and the weight of the things I carry, the stories I hold, and the lives that so very greatly have moved me, molded me, and changed me to be soft and harder, loud and softer,
disguised,
barely,
still me.
Few places I’ve been, few faces I’ve seen, have shown me, outside of this, there’s something that really means more. It means life, means food, means family and love, and it’s simpler than government and politics, and a handout line, and a group, and a conference, and a stage that shines, and a song, and a city and a “someday dream.”
Everything can change, and it begins with me. And it starts with you. And together that us can change, and we can grow. Together or apart we are still us, and life is still happening, and Africa is still there. So use me, or go, but don’t forget that my growth and yours matter.
They change it.
We do.
