save me from the little tribes
the us and them tribes
that say who can’t marry who
that make you take up a gun to defend them
give me those sisters and brothers
in the bigger family
to link arms with
to cluck and strut together
to head off somewhere
not knowing precisely where
trusting that we’ll find the way
. . . together
the kind of tribe we need
with mixed up colors and open doors.
Artwork (graphite powder, acrylic inks and gesso, collage on w/c paper) and poem by Susan Cornelis. Used with permission. © Susan Cornelis. Susan blogs at Conversations with the Muse. Information about her art workshops is found at Imagine with Art.
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