The beautiful and brilliant Nikki Grimes wrote the following poem today:
While I know it was not about me, it hit home so hard. Hard. After crying, I put my warrior pen in hand and wrote this response:
Julie no longer plays into the big hand,
The heavy hand, the upper hand,
The hand that silences, shames, smacks.
She used to plead, “Pick me! Pick Me!”
In a rush, she’d cast her heart into pools of abandonment—
Pearls to swine, like clockwork.
They could count on her to bear the secrets,
The stains, the scarlet paragraphs and
Chapters that chronicled cries and crises.
But in the hour of need, past half the darkness
The second hand clicked into place. . .
Safe hands and second chances surfaced.
This is her day in the sun. Love won.
Flourishing, fostering freedom and hope,
Counting on truth—not time—to heal her wounds.
The Read-e-ologist 