Letter to My People

Dear My People,

The system is broken.

I know this from lived experience,

from study,

from what the world already sees.

It failed my father.

It failed my mother.

It failed me,

it failed you,

it failed Black and Brown bodies everywhere.

They patch us with scraps,

Band-Aids just enough

to keep us moving—

and then they act surprised

that we are still in survival mode.

But survival is not living.

“I’m alive” is not enough.

Joy is our birthright.

Abundance is holy.

God is love,

God is light.

I watched my father

work his hands raw.

I watched my mother

battle her own mind.

I watched my grandfather serve,

only to see veterans

sleep on Atlanta’s streets.

The promises ring hollow.

I studied the law—

its loopholes, its traps.

The cruel math of

“too much for help,

not enough to live.”

Capitalism and inflation:

chains dressed as progress.

We will not be saved by the system.

We must notice the patterns,

find the cracks,

free ourselves.

Poison comes through many faucets—

food, water, screens, smoke.

Fast food, fast scrolling, fast fixes.

A culture that keeps us numb,

disconnected from the body

where trauma lives.

And yet—

my body remembers.

Breath by breath,

fist clench, fist release,

a hum, a hand to chest,

a whisper: I am here.

I am whole.

I am safe.

If trauma lives in the body,

then freedom must take root there.

White-body supremacy

is in the air, the water, the media.

But if we gathered,

slowed down,

breathed together—

we would heal.

We would spit the poisons out.

We would become

our own antidotes.

I am an embodiment of the future.

I am the change I desire to seek.

With love, light, + liberation,

Zar