For Romham Gallacher
After Audre Lorde’s “Depreciation”
First the banks
then the river run right
through the treasury
then vehicles that transport gas
don’t have gas to run
Between the corporate credit computer crash
the downfall of drummed up dept worldwide
and the heirloom seed-bomb airlift
there is plenty to eat
and nowhere to hide.
I don't know Romham Gallacher from Adam. So it is a big deal that a perfect stranger, who happens to have heard about my work from a person they respect was one of the first people to make a financial contribution to my trip to St. Croix. The note on paypal said, "My friend Chanelle alerted me to your chip in. I've not much to offer, but every penny counts! Best of luck on getting to St. Croix!"
I'm actually not sure who Chanelle is either.
The donations that loved ones from all parts of my life have given towards this trip have overwhelmed me with gratitude. I am so lucky to be loved by so many people, and for so long, and with such tangibility and grace. But this donation, from someone who I do not know and who decided because of their love for their own friend and their belief that it was the right thing to do, to make a donation and send luck and positive energy my way overwhelms me with hope. It is not always clear to me that I live in a world in which strangers wish a wayward queer Black girl best of luck. In which they hope I succeed. In which they believe I deserve to commune with my ancestors and elders whether or not I can personally, individually, financially afford it. Romham's gift is an affirmation of that truth, and it builds my faith in the world that we deserve. It reminds me that our love is stronger than the systems that separate us.
So this poem is for Romham. Whoever you are. Towards the world that we believe in. And deserve.