Commodified bodies.
My prayer for us all is a shift. A life where struggle isn't the prerequisite to unrealized opulence.
I’m from a lineage whose bodies are commodified,
so the labor is back breaking.
Stress alchemized into hypertension,
calloused hands, creating currency
To slow overdraft fees
Clutching and crawling as an investment for future populations
and I want for nothing more than their rest.
I pray that the cobblestones they gather
become the cornerstones
for mansions in which they find comfort.
That, rather than being mightier than the sword,
Our pens strike sharply enough to eradicate generational debt.
Turn “one day(s)” into yesterday.
Transport us to the tranquil locales in our minds.
Providing families who have only known “richness of spirit”
lives free of collection calls and high stakes fiscal negotiations.
Where chronic back pain is not the measure used,
To sum up a life of constant service.
To grow accustomed to the feeling of opulence…
or the access to access.
Lives devoid of wants.
Where the gratification is instant and it never disappoints.
I’m from a legacy where we have learned to commodify our bodies.
At some point we’ll know our value (not what we produce), is priceless.