BLACK BOY BE started after a transition between jobs, losing my confidence, my ability to blend in with the wind, emotional motions of whispers on clouds, aloud I would chant the words, to be, black and them and they and at times boy, and at times girl and at times celestial, sometimes whimsical, dismal even. My position in this world was vague, softer, lighter even. There were so many waves around me that could prompt me to delve into the reason to drown, the reason to leave this world abandoning loved ones or the concrete so used to my feet. I felt alone, insignificant, unwarranted to my own beliefs. I believed I was beloved by the kindred spirits that said they were a friend, a foe, a doe of innocence I was. I faltered not, I created more, I hesitated less, I grew ten years more. I’m still on the edge, or the verge, of chaos, and nothing, not a thundering sound nor hush tone can prevent me from the unraveling of myself. Here’s to the discards of a disquiet precarious person, to a more bountiful and rebellious soul.