- Vol. 08
- Chapter 02
Holding Up Mirrors
Yesterday falls to my feet like forgotten ink. Today is a paper airplane in my chest, on the verge of taking flight— impatient. Tomorrow hides itself, maneuvers like a ghost behind trees.
The news becomes a blindfold. I wear it like a hat, one size too big, until I grow into the knowledge I know not yet how to navigate. I hold truth in my hands, hold signs up as mirrors, refuse to be blind to injustice.