emptying my lungs

It has been years since I've used this account, but I met so many kind people using it that I know it was important to share HERE, too. (missed ya'll!)

I am working with a few "book creators" on Instagram for a "book giveaway for Gaza" where people can enter a few books and bookish items to win. To enter, you just have to send proof of a $10 or more donation to a family or organization from the Operation Olive Branch list to the host via a form. 

We are hoping to help families get closer to their goals, whether it is for shelter, food, medical supplies or evacuation.

For the 4 books I donated (you will see those labeled krix.ko on IG), I ask that folks donate to one of the two campaigns below. These are two Palestinian families that I have gotten to know, and they have been unable to contact organizers like OOB for aid. 

Here are the two families: 

JOSLIN and family of 7

Husband and Wife Dentists

The Giveaway has been extended and runs until June 3rd

The Host (bookish.millennial) explains this a lot better than I do, so please visit the below link. it will give you a full explanation and share all the links you need to enter.

Please donate, share, and boost until we can reach our goal.

Liberation for all in our lifetime, from Hawai'i to Turtle Island to Congo to Sudan to Palestine.

Sitting warm and comfort of

A churning belly.

You spilt me open

Head to hide

I carried you fully into safety

we did not hear a sound until danny’s blade fell out his pocket and the bullets that followed

because I guess anything can be a gun if the darkness surrounding it is hungry enough

or at least that’s what I’ve been told when

the bodies of black boys thrash against what

little life they have left tethering them to the earth and isn’t that what we’ve always been fed? that it is just like the nighttime

to rename everything that moves into a monster?", - Hanif Willis Abdurraqib , excerpt from "all of the black boys finally stopped packing switchblades", taken from The Crown Ain't Worth Much

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This is a book that shares itself like melodies.

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How will I tell my child that their tiny body is feared when we giggle and dance to Motown with rainbow-colored tongues and joy on our hearts?

How will I tell my child they may be gunned down for trying to reach for their phone to call? How will I survive hearing my child beg in their last moments?

I will remember the first time I held you. Loved you. 

Protected you.

They will decide on a name and story for you in the news. With a photo that does not sit on our mantle. Strangers will comb through your past and give you a narrative.

They won’t know of the first time you cried with me. 

They won’t understand the soft strength of our family.

They won’t know the extent of your love.

They won’t know that your last moments stopped our world in its tracks. 

and empathy,