In My Other Life
In my other life I actually used my journalism degree
And dug births out of burials
Didn’t care who listened
Just happy my editor
wasn’t always in my own head
Saying Not Enough
Not Ever Enough
In my other life
I crossed oceans and craved content
Cried when I learned children could be traded like
baseball cards
Gave myself a voice through ink
Instead of microphone
And wasn’t always anticipating the reaction
In my other life
I understood
I was born with a heart that beat steel
So I could report and not react
Write and not respond
And somehow feel like I could do more
Could Always Do More
I used to dream about the stars
About the folks at home draping papers over
steaming morning toast
Instead of burning corneas
Like the burning piles of garbage in Kibera
In my other life
I could tolerate this stench
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