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Keep your face to the sunshine
and shadows will fall behind you. -- Walt Whitman

Interior Spaces by Janet Reed

I once mapped my interior spaces,
(made an atlas of my mind);
confident in the legend
I knew the roads and rivers
where the scrub met Main Street
and the highway left town.
Even the three stop lights
in my three-stop town
blinked predictably green.

Locked in a blind spot
I couldn’t see the dark matter
(negative space)
that held my privilege,
terrain I never knew to challenge
until assault weapons
splatted the canvas with bullets:

Charleston, Ferguson, Baltimore,
Orlando, Dallas and Baton Rouge
(to name a few).

Too many died before I saw
a plat of social lines
(the aerial view).
Because my skin is daylight
I walk with the sun
blinded to the syncopation of night.
I see red and green in harmony
and ignore the combination
that bleeds brown.

I bought a new canvas (to redraft)
but couldn’t push a pencil,
haunted by the speck and mote
Jesus talked about
(I was blind, but now I see).

Motes of comfort and inertia
open highways wide with access
(I don’t like to admit this)
let me see the white fences around me
and not the missing gates (blind spots).

(To say) “Do unto others" is not enough
until I do unto others.
My new map requires (of me)
serious road construction:
wider roads, more exits,
lights in negative spaces
(renewable energies)

Without this hard work
I will never see (choose not to see)
how I helped destroy the map from within.

The Linnets Wings