I had a nightmare the other night where I was getting beaten by a police officer(s). I don’t remember the actual violence specifically.

What was the most frustrating part of the dream was the aftermath. Nobody would listen to me and hear my side of the story.

Dreams fade soon after having them. This one stayed with me for days.

I can only imagine this happening to a person of color and what they must live with.

If they do live

Por qué soy feliz
por William Stafford

Ahora ha llegado, un momento fácil. Lo dejo
rollo. Hay un lago en alguna parte
tan azul y lejos nadie lo posee.
Un viento pasa y un sauce escucha
graciosamente.

Escucho todo esto, todos los veranos. Me río
y llorar por cada vuelta del mundo,
su giro terriblemente frío e inocente.
Ese lago permanece azul y libre; va
incesantemente.

Y sé dónde está.

Why I Am Happy
by William Stafford

Now has come, an easy time. I let it
roll. There is a lake somewhere
so blue and far nobody owns it.
A wind comes by and a willow listens
gracefully.

I hear all this, every summer. I laugh
and cry for every turn of the world,
its terribly cold, innocent spin.
That lake stays blue and free; it goes
on and on.

And I know where it is.

———We will be reading a poem on repeat for a few weeks per an article in The New York Times . I chose a familiar William Stanford poem as our first.

Things seem upside down lately.

Me

Drawing by Me

Edited upside down by Me