Week 8 “Say tomorrow doesn't come…”
Updated: May 13, 2020
Poems written by Untold Stories poets in response to the prompt “Say tomorrow doesn't come…” from The Conditional by Ada Limón.
May 8, 2020 Until Tomorrow
- Desiraé Simmons
tomorrow
we won’t have to say
#ICan’tBreathe
tomorrow i will belong
without needing to assimilate
into others’ expectations
mine are enough
without stares rolling
over my Black body
for daring to take up space
tomorrow, money
will not be valued
higher than the
shrieks of joy from a child
a warm hug from a loved one
after separation of time and space
tomorrow i will know
what safety feels like
that sense that everything
will be alright
not only because we
have faith, hope, love in our hearts
tomorrow, yes, tomorrow
today
i run out into
my backyard and see
not one but two
confederate flags flying
above a park, a Black church, a school
a Michigan neighborhood
i call home
today i wondered
what if tomorrow doesn’t come
like it won’t for so many
as i run through a cemetery
i feel the weight of mass graves
stop! i can’t breathe!
today
i saw the future
where we can all
trace our histories
like those who rest on a hill
where we all know
we will die
among those who love us
where we all sleep
knowing that when we awake
it will be tomorrow
yes, tomorrow
A Requiem for Tomorrow
- Erica B. Edwards
There is only today.
Today with its promise of laughter
And hugs
And garden sprouts
And a growing baby.
Today with its challenge of getting out of bed
And crying a little
Before smiling for the camera.
Pretending we’ve accepted this unacceptable reality.
Secretly letting go of what we used to believe were certainties.
Realizing the futility of tomorrow.
It isn’t promised anyway.
There is only today.
Today with its gentle suburban family walk.
Its brand new blue bike
Comfortable athleisure-wear
Constant reminders to shut the screen door
And epic backyard quests
Complete with mythical beasts the size of roly-polies.
Today with its harrowing report that we are sacrificial lambs on the altar to
Master God Economy.
Our Black bodies hunted by visible and invisible predators alike.
Laying in wake in refrigerated tractor trailers
While we deepen our ancestor’s stretch
Into a bend that doesn’t break.
Realizing tomorrow is an idea forced upon us through the captors’ tongue.
What is time anyway?
There is only today.
Today with its medicine of good good girlfriends.
The reminder that we all we got
As we retreat into old memories
And meditate on the warmth of the sun
The rhythm of the waters
The comfort of good food and drinks.
Today with its careers and passions
Everything we’ve worked for
Swinging in the balance
As the gluttonous hoard of the West rots
A carnage of Brown bodies we refuse to see
And Milk rains
And Meat festers
And Vegetables rightfully deny us their nutrient.
Realizing tomorrow is submicroscopic on mother earth’s body.
She has seen this before anyway.
There is only today.
Today with its elders learning to use unimaginable technologies
Saying, “I feel like I’m on The Jetson’s!”
While laughing with children who promise to come again
To push their wheelchair down the hall.
Expressions of gratitude for the millionth scribbled sketch
That brightens the silences we keep out of love
As the guilt deepens that before,
We believed we could not care for them as much as we do.
Realizing tomorrow is only a promise to step closer to death.
Cells deteriorate anyway.
There is only today.
Today with its gift of the present
A promise of peace
And surety of wisdom
if we only lean into it a little bit more.
The only future we can hope for
Is today.