Folks would ask why I was still there
In that job, in that role, in that place
And I would arrogantly laugh and answer,
“I know, I know. But it’s temporary, y’all.”
Folks then looked away
Seeing what I thought was hidden
Insecurities which led me to lean on
Unsteady beams
For a false sense of safety, support
Inside of small rooms
Small rooms where dreams written on the walls
Had faded long ago
Where there was no more space
To justify the stagnation, the false pride
Of knowing I had outgrown those rooms
Long Ago
Though too scared to even go into the larger room
Next door or venture down the hallway
Until one day the small room imploded
Became uninhabitable
I quickly gathered only what was necessary
Forced to find a new room
In another building
A bigger room
With steady beams
Where I could breathe in and exhale deeply
And write my new dreams on the wall
Alma describes herself as a, "61 year old Black feminist who continues to learn so much from her adult children and one year old grandson." She is a proud native of Oakland, California, but has spent most of her adult life in the south. She received her public interest law degree from New College of California and often writes about injustice. She also writes for both joy and healing and is a cultural storyteller and 17 year cancer thriver.