Not nice.
No more nice.
Nor excusing.
Not passive nor placating nor patronizing.
No more of what makes tomorrow more of the same
when it could all be different.
Not nice.
But still, tender.
Tender like “in touch with pain.”
One’s own. Others’. Ours. Everyone’s. (but particularly and differently.)
Tender like knowing from experience.
Tender like there’s too much at stake not to be.
Tender like fiercely fighting for
the soft parts of us trying to make it,
the possibilities of right relationships,
the justice that changes everything – roots deep.
Tender like chosen family.
Tender like abolition.
Tender like the love in accountability.
Tender like “you’re not alone.”
Tender like laughter.
Tender like death, in its right time.
Tender like spring.
Tender like all the earth
asking us to please,
come home.
m jade kaiser