A Phoenix First Must Burn

by Patrice Caldwell

Too often we are portrayed as victims. But in reality, we advocate for and save ourselves long before anyone else does, from heroes my parents taught me of to recent ones like Alicia Garza, Patrisse Cullors, and Opal Tometi, the Black women who founded Black Lives Matter.

And then his voice sort of drifted and he asked me, You think those aliens sing? and Do they make music? Dance? Create art? I was like, Why does that even matter? Uncle June was silent for a few seconds. Because, he said, if they take the time to translate their world into sound and color, that means they know love. That means we have a chance.

“Your lot went to Earth, laser guns blazing, in search of a new home, isn’t that right?” “And if we did not arrive wielding weapons?” Its voice is controlled but tight. “Would you share your planet with us?”

“Do you know what it is like to covet such a honeyed thing your whole life, and to have tasted just enough to have the memory plague you, but also to know that you would be cut down if you ever tried to claim it as your own?

What is one soul in the face of empire?

What does a single blade of grass say when the heavens unload a storm on her back? What does cosmic dust say when it is swept away by solar winds?

“Don’t let love take you too high, ’cause you’ll be a kite without a tail, and before you know it, caught in a storm cloud. And lightning ain’t kind. Love ain’t worth being electrocuted for. Or your heart turned to ash.”