I never thought I would see this day when a white man apologizes for the tyranny and oppression of Native American population. This is so powerful. This is the nation that I want - responsible, compassionate and that learns from its mistakes.
Amazing…
This
Naked brown trees with outstretched arms
Reaching up towards the white November sky
Like a plea for one last chance at life.
The water of the creek behind my house
has already started its freeze.
There’s a grassy clearing that ends
In a miniature cliff, overlooking the water body,
Where I sit and dangle my feet over the edge,
Pretending to be someone thinking about
Changing their life, or ending it.
But of course, I’m not
thinking about any of that.
And a jump from this short height
Would mostly just get me muddy.
It’s just that this is where
we used to spend all our summers—
Picnics, and swimming, and laughing under sun-green leaves—
So aren’t I supposed to be thinking about those things?
Shouldn’t this be a picture of
a poet on the edge, painting memories
The color of regret?
But truth be told, even as desolate as the fall flora looks,
Going brown and cold and quiet in a way
That brings the word bradycardia to my lips,
I can’t pretend to mourn the summer days
That have past.
We were here cold days, too.
And late nights, all the time we could find
To retreat to our hidden home, wrapped up in trees.
Once Matt and I came down to the creek alone,
Well past midnight, and as we entered the trees,
Leaving the yellow of the streetlamps behind, I got scared and he
Said something like do whatever you need
When I asked if I could latch onto his jacket.
Now he’s in a state he hates,
Untrimmed stubble and hands
Shoved into pockets. The way that
Alone settles onto shoulders
That would rather just shrug it off.
Once Cynthia was my model for a photography assignment,
And we shot it down here,
Her laying out on chairs that were then
Edited out post-production,
So it looked like she was suspended in air.
She left the country,
And is now learning conversational French
Out of necessity, not just for a language req.
I want to ask her if it feels like floating in air,
Having a support system taken out from under you.
Once, in the pouring rain, Anna and Elizabeth
Were standing on the stepping stones that cross the creek
when suddenly the creek flooded, within seconds,
and they got trapped on the other side.
Anna’s got an apartment in Charlottesville now,
And she says things have been good
In that tone reserved for awed unbelievers,
Like she’s seen rain for so long
That the sensation of sun-of-skin became
something foreign to her.
This all has me thinking that every flood, eventually,
Must end.
And also has me thinking,
Strange how the sun can forget its own warmth.
Late this summer, the two of them, with Emily and me,
Painted the tunnel that runs through the creek,
with washable paints. Non-toxic vandalism
In the shape of stars and moons and
THIS IS HOME in big letters
Because, you know,
It was. It is.
Emily’s in Harrisburg, the only one of us with a car.
I still haven’t gotten used to how little it can mean
To be in the same state as someone. But we’re still in
the same state of matter, particles closely packed together,
And I guess that matters. That counts for something.
Even miles away, we’re all still existing
At the same time.
And I think that’s enough.
“This poem is a reflection of a place where my friends from home and I hang out (the creek that runs behind my house) and memories that we shared there together.”
-Julia St. John, University of Pittsburgh, Freshman
“So many have worked for so many years to end this kind of violence and abuse and disrespect, but here we are. It’s 2016 and we’re hearing these exact same things every day of the campaign trail. We are drowning in it. And all of us are doing what women have always done. We’re trying to keep our heads above water. Just trying to get through it, trying to pretend like this doesn’t really bother us. Maybe because we think that admitting how much it hurts makes us as women look weak. Maybe we’re afraid to be that vulnerable. Maybe we’ve grown accustomed to swallowing these emotions and staying quiet because we’ve seen that people often won’t take our word over his. Or maybe we don’t want to believe that there are still people out there who think so little of us as women. Too many are treating this as just another day’s headline. As if our outrage is overblown or unwarranted. As if this is normal. Just politics as usual.
But New Hampshire, be clear; this is not normal. This is not politics as usual. This is disgraceful. It is intolerable and it doesn’t matter what party you belong to—Democrat, Republican, Independent—no woman deserves to be treated this way. None of us deserve this kind of abuse.”
—Michelle Obama, Oct. 13, 2016
been feeling physically sick because of all this shit but her words helped
Ferguson.
Never forget✊🏾
This should be in the history books…our History
So this is 8 ½ minutes long but i guarantee you it’s the best 8 ½ minutes of TV you’ll see this week.
THIS IS SO WORTH IT. YOU HAVE TO WATCH THIS OMG
#staywoke
Show this quote to any asshole who says that we should just accept Trump’s presidency because that is the “American” thing to do.
The end of that quote (which is real, it would seem from a quick google search) is, “Nothing but the truth should be spoken about him or any one else. But it is even more important to tell the truth, pleasant or unpleasant, about him than about any one else.”
Seems apt.
true love is what you felt for that album you played for one month straight
Buy 365 near-identical, solid color shirts that range through the entire color spectrum in a loop. It will appear as though you wear the same color shirt every day, but in photos from previous months you’ll be wearing a completely different color.
I’M SO IN.
Hello all,
Our theme for October is “glow.” We are used to things glowing in the upcoming months. Pumpkins smile at us with crooked, glowing teeth. Our little sisters or brothers might have cheeks that glow red with exertion from jumping into the leaf piles that they build up again and again, just to hear the satisfying crunch and feel the rush of leaping. But glowing – that steady oozing of radiance – happens regardless of season. You might glow out of your fingertips and into your chest, with the same creeping tingle from a shot of whiskey, because of a first kiss. A sunset can glow, with its stained-glass shards of pinks and oranges. Its embers warming all of your corners even though a fall chill bites in the air. You can feel a fierce glow of pride in your chest watching your best friend grow, change, or do the impossible. A party can glow, sparks of conversation and excitement coloring the night, landing on your lips, mixing with your lipstick. Letting the words “I love you” drip from your mouth and leave you with a surging glow.
Here at ambi- we want your thoughts that glow. The words the slip onto the page and light it with a roar. Playlists that leak out of the cracks in between you – shining. Paintings with strokes that show the twinkling glow deep in your stomach. Glow with us. Feel it in your toes.
With love,
Victoria
submit to ambi mag bc it’s cool & i said so
