Much delicious food was to be had, followed by an open mic that closed the event. Both parts owe much to Toni and Dexter and to Deta Galloway, who did a great job contributing to both.
It was Deta's presence in particular that led to me to write and share this piece (given that I did a similar poem for her own holiday party/art show/community gathering last year). I cleaned it up and finally gave it a title this morning.
for Dexter Roberts
If we are all made of stories
the one fate worse than death
would be to be rumored out of life,
cause of death repeated, disputed
from every angle, until your DNA
is broken up, categorized in given color,
until you can no longer tell
what their blocks built in the first place,
leaving the rest of us afraid
of holding tools to tell our tale,
becoming edited in the street.
Let us jump to another story,
though we’re afraid to even pull out our chutes.