Mohammed El-Kurd, from Rifqa; “Rifqa”
[Text ID: “I cried—not for the house / but for the memories I could have had inside it.”]
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“Mouthful of Forevers”, Clementine von Radics
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“victim”
i’ve been writing a lot lately
i liked this one, so i wanted to share it
be kind to yourselves
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My sister puts glasses away upside down.
Because our mother does,
Because her mother did,
Because her mother lived through the Dust Bowl.
One day my father sat me down and told me about epigenetics.
How the trauma he went through
As a child in an abusive home
Wrote itself into his DNA
And, in turn, into mine.
How he and his brothers,
In various ways,
Are all sick from it.
How I might be too, someday,
And I’m not sure I’m not.
I hear people say,
When will we get back to normal?
And I think of a woman born in the twenty-first century
Who puts her glasses away differently
Because of what her great-grandmother endured
Ninety years before.
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having a moment. That is lasting a long time
💧🍯☕️
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fatima aamer bilal, from all that is damaging.
[text id: there’s always a home. the one you’re running to or the one you’re running from.]
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Peace be upon the daughter who helped her parents grow up. Accepted their cold shoulder, excused their anger, pardoned their mistakes, taught them how to be human. Peace be upon the sister who paid the price of rebellion. Screaming to her fullest, shaking like a leaf but standing tall, never letting the dictatorship go without a fight, paving the path for her siblings to breathe easier. Peace be upon the first child of an immigrant father. Aching to find their own purpose in life, firm in their own beliefs, contradicting generations and generations of cultural values. Peace be upon the girl who shouldered her mother's trauma. Swindled it into her own, morphed herself into an image of the womb she once resided in, immersed herself into troubles that weren't even hers, covered up scars that she couldn't even recognize. Peace be upon the woman who forgot who she was. So determined to be the savior of everyone, to fix her family, to nurture and love everyone around her. So deeply lost that she forgot she's just as worthy of love. Peace be upon you.
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Blythe Baird, from If My Body Could Speak; “Concerns from a hot-boxed jeep”
[Text ID: “How do I stop / carrying everything / that had ever / happened to me?”]
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some blackout poetry from a homophobic christian post <3 the last one is what was left if i turned on all the layers at once
please do not try to find or harass this person. they are likely just uneducated and do not deserve to be dogpiled
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top to bottom, left to right
transcript 1: “Please pay for transgender top surgery. We are poor”
transcript 2: “transgender gay blasphemers slay pop off”
transcript 3: “transgender gays are cool We are all swag”
transcript 4: “transgender”
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(tagging @fixing-bad-posts because their blog inspired this! thank you for your work <3)
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