NO!

To my Mother,
Father,
And all my mothers and fathers before them:
Whether by blood,
Or by love,
If we have met in the flesh
Or only through the realm of dreams
You have created
The self that lives
Breathes
And lives on this day

Perhaps I should give a nod of gratitude,
Or perhaps a remark in disdain
For I was forced from Mother’s sacred womb
Into this cold and angry place

Perhaps today, I sing a note in thanks
Or is it a cry of despair
As the city around me burns
While adults I have never met tell me that my
Lack of simple garden tools brought my world into disrepair?

I want to say, “Thank you,”
But instead I find myself in sorrow
As my transgender sister
Dies in the cold
When the church closes the door to shelter
Or my brothers are beaten down for the color of their skin
By racist men who happen to wear blue

I begin to speak in tones of gratefulness for my life
And then I pause
For my life is nothing
When others have suffered great loss
I am not a fighter,
I have always offered healing and respite
But my heart grows heavier
Each and every night

So I ask with great urgency
To my Mother, Father
And ALL who came before them
Why did you teach others so poorly?
Why does society stand on the side of hate?
Why is it so important that on a Thursday of November
That we stop and give thanks to ourselves
While marginalizing everything else?

Why do we find it so important to forget?
Whether by blood,
Or by love,
We are all connected?

Why do we forget, Mother?
Why do we not care, Father?
Why do you let us forget?
Why can’t we break the cycle
So our children will not suffer us?

I want to say, “Thank you.”
But I am muted with rage
For I will forget
I will forget you, and them
And I will make the same mistake
With my own children

No, thank you.