Hello again, all! A couple of weeks ago I published a very short story that I wrote in order to creatively work through the monumental, never-ending task of decolonizing the mind. Today, I want to share with ya’ll another creative piece that came out of my desire to follow my heart above my overthinking head, and truly feel the reality of life-changing issues that are so easily abstracted in academia.
As the title of this post suggest, the three-part poem below is on my process of fostering humility as an integral aspect of my being-in-the-world. I don’t know if it will resonate with ya’ll, but it’s what I’ve been feeling.
A front. Affront.
Textual skimming, solitary typing, masturbatory philosophizing, i GOT EVERYTHING WRONG.
(Why can’t the red worm leave the i alone?)
Automatonic processes —> autonomyatic outcomes.
Just think how they’ll see me!
Is anyone looking?
Clarified muddiness; basic epipanies.
Weekly, tiring…to stagnate? To move? To…?
Britain thought it was perfect, too.
Can i scream with a bibliographic citation?
Can i dance to Times New Roman?
Can i share space through “[…]ality”?
If i wait for the cocoon to slip away,
(but i am a specialunique butterfly!)
It will solidify and fill itself with sedatives.
(i am an automaton of autonomy.)
In solidarity, Ali.