Oh, here's another one.
I have four godchildren, all female.
And, they're interesting.
My best friend is--
she used to be a nun.
Maybe that's why I hang out in Catholic churches a lot.
She was a nun.
She left the convent and married--
he's like my brother.
He's Jewish.
And it seems to have taken, they've
been married 30 something years.
And when I spend the night with him, which I often do,
I spend the night in Amira's--
their oldest daughter's Amira, that's her name--
her room.
And she has all these-- have you seen these ceilings
with lights?
So the whole ceiling of the room looks like stars around it.
I was there one night, and I start
thinking about my grandma-- my grandmother was certified
bonkers.
And she thought I was 14 until she died.
I had children.
And I thought about trying to get away from something.
So I'm not the only person that does that.
I am not the only color that thinks
about getting away from here, getting away
from home and these people.
This is called "In Amira's Room."
"You are not nearly light enough,
I whisper to myself, staring up at the stars
on Amira's ceiling.
You are my lightest grandchild, she would smile.
My crazy grandmother who loved me more, of course,
shining among my cousins in my Mary Janes.
Sure that I could one day lift from the darkness,
from the family holding me to what the world would
call unbearable.
I lie here now under my godchild's ceiling, grandma
gone, cousins all gone, the dark world still smug--
still visible among the stars.
We've gotten over that whole thing about--
I hope-- about lightness and all that good stuff."