Read Between The Lines

Don’t push me,

I pull from the waist.

All my ambition points 

forward for my dying 

race.

Not diminishing its living 

state in a dominant white 

space.

We are not shadows, 

but lasting silhouettes— 

go hang that picture.

Let’s look alive together,

rather than like ghosts of

ourselves who beg to differ.

—JG  ©2026