While my cities burn…

Twin cities of Minneapolis and St. Paul are on fire again tonight. People are hurting, and trust has been broken so many times that lashing out seems the only recourse. Burn it, and start over again.

I worry for my cities. I worry for communities who are perpetually unheard. I worry for people trying desperately for something that feels even remotely like justice. I worry for the future of people feeling safe again in their own skin. I worry, but I despair from a place of safety and privilege.

I received some pictures from a love. The pictures were from nights of burned gas stations, bars, clubs, and local restaurants. I hadn’t heard from him in days, and I always worry when he goes dark. His heart resonates with the world around him, and I know his pain is heavy. I cannot reach him whenever I worry…I have to wait for him to surface on his own. Each time he is quiet, I wonder if it is the last I will hear from him.

I received some texts from another love. The words were also filled with a longing to be of use to a community that is suffering. He, like many of us, feels helpless watching the coverage on television after promising family that he will stay safe and out of the justified rage on the streets.

I think my cities and of those who have died senselessly. The helplessness we feel is thick and paralyzing, and so we demonstrate. The pain is livid, and so we scream. The need is paramount, and so we beg and plead and cry until people listen without being defensive. Please, Minnesota! Just let your guard down and listen to each other. Change is needed.

One of the hardest parts about relationships outside of my marriage…I cannot hold my others when they need it most. My place is here, in my monogamous construct. I want to be able to pick up the phone and hear my partners’ voices while they struggle. I want to be able to reach out when they don’t have any ability to come to me.

More on that thought later. For now, I go and curl up in my safe place, guarded by the curfew in the area, assured that my race gives me the benefit of the doubt, and I cry with my cities.

One thought on “While my cities burn…”

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