A free-verse protest dedicated to the #BlackLivesMatter Movement.

The Bloom of Disquiet

I am born on Juneteenth to disquiet by lynchings from my shelter of privilege, to find history leveled under voices once muted, now megaphoned from Minneapolis to London.

I am disquieted

by a father’s breaths, taken under knee and divisible by the wrong room where Breonna was shot.

Disquiet reboots the me that I was.

I have chosen to be

a speaker in tongues for free verse aloud with alarm when lynchings are deemed suicides.

No more.

I will resonate

with the pleading of a father’s breaths, taken under knee and divisible by the wrong room where Breonna was shot.

No more.

I will resonate

with the thunder that peals from white pages when a jogger is run down and the sheriff knows.

No more.

I will resonate

from the still of the ground fertile with silence.

I will bloom to the struggle and beauty of shouting, “Black Lives Matter!” like a rose, unweighted. I am grounded, stemmed beyond dew, to thorn out in protest in the hue of every drop spilled with injustice and a gun.

Salvation snaps to mimic a relapse of larynx gathered around the globe in the midst of pandemic where I aim my outcry, not silenced, I will post and will share Black Lives Matter beyond a still in the moment where all matters are rebuked at random en masse, provoked to MAGA by Twitters to Tulsa.

Born in New Orleans, Dionne Charlet is a published American poet of FrancoIrish decent. A former Renaissance festival queen and entertainment writer, Dionne is disabled by a benign brain tumor and dysautonomia. She lives with her husband and Boston BullPug in Isabel, LA.