We count our generations because history would otherwise forget our story.
We are an inconvenient truth; documented but not published.
We are enemies of the State.
We are still lost in the desert, tracking sand across America.
We don’t know where we’re going.
But we hold on to what we can; all that we can carry.
And it is the few of us who rise up and choose to remember with pride and dignity.
That for their suffering, I live and breathe—
For their memory,