My People

My people are English people.

My people spend hours translating children’s stories from one language to another

and look up words in the OED

for fun.

My people analyze narrative:

structure, style, and tone.

My people read poems

and don’t find them boring,

even the boring ones.

My people are studio art people.

My people slave over their art for hours.

My people have printing sessions with enlargers

and then get angry when none of them turn out how they want.

My people spend hours developing film after class,

battling with plastic reels and 68 degree water temperature

to get the negative sleeve to be just right.

My people are music people.

My people can spend hours singing

and never get tired or bored.

My people get excited when they see triplets and 6/8 time signatures.

My people figure out harmonies and guitar chords in their free time.

My people are women wearing stilettos down Middle Path when it’s raining

acting like everything’s okay.

My people are men with gentle hearts

and caring souls.

My people are my trans and non-binary friends

out there fighting for their lives.

I see you.

My people know what it means

to love someone the same sex as you.

My people know what it means

to love someone the opposite sex as you.

My people know what it means to love.

My people know what OT and PT mean.

My people have slurs in their speech

to the point where it’s difficult to understand them

yet still hold conversations like it’s nothing.

My people use communication devices

and sign language

and braces on their feet

and dots on numbers

so they can count them

and deal with harassment and exclusion

from the people who don’t understand them

yet still see the beauty

that lives inside every single one of them.

My people know that “I…have to use…the bathroom” really means

“I’m about to have a panic attack.”

My people spend hours drafting emails

only for the final result to be

“Hey! Will you be advising this semester? Let me know! Thanks!”

My people have ten thousand fidgets on their body at any given moment.

My people know silence means a hurricane is happening inside our brains,

we’re just being really quiet about it.

My people know “I need a minute”

really means I need a minute.

My people know suicide is the quietest monster on this Earth.

My people know how to live through it anyway.

My people know when the hair goes up, we mean business.

My people persevere,

know how to keep moving

when everything is fighting against them.

Know how to breathe

when the entire sky is smog.

Know the sun will always come out,

even during winter.

My people are strong,

defiant,

charismatic,

“build with what they have”

kind of people.

My people are “shove it down your bra” kind of people.

My people are “do you have a pad?” kind of people.

My people are “hey. Are you okay?” kind of people.

My people are “put it in your pocket” kind of people.

My people are “only use it in emergencies” kind of people.

My people are “do you need a hug?” kind of people.

My people are beautiful kinds of people

My people remind me how to live everyday.

My people give me hope for a better future.

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I’m a young aspiring writer trying to figure out life. (She/her) Website: https://sites.google.com/view/halle-preneta/home

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Halle

Halle

I’m a young aspiring writer trying to figure out life. (She/her) Website: https://sites.google.com/view/halle-preneta/home

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