From INDY to DC
Details about my first research trip of the year!
Good morning friends!
I write to you from a not-so-cozy Indianapolis Airport on a surprisingly snowy morning. I haven’t slept since about 3pm yesterday (mainly because my sleep schedule has made a complete shift)…and yet…I’m as excited as can be, because I’m heading out for my first research trip. For the next five days, I get to explore the National Museum of African American History & Culture at the Smithsonian.
As I continue to work on my most recent manuscript of poems (which, just this week, was requested IN FULL by a literary agent), I am exploring the plethora of archives, works of art in all forms, and Black Diasporic interpretations of art as a way to better understand how people of color—specifically those who identify within the Black, African, and Latine Diaspora—can better preserve our histories without them being erased.
In my preparation for this, I first thank my Creator, God, for allowing this to take place…and for allowing the Central Indiana Community Foundation (CICF) to award me an Artist Ambassador Travel Grant to be able to make the trip to D.C. (and to Miami in February).
I am also grateful for any and all of my supporters, whether it’s been through sharing my work, leaving kind words of encouragement, or financial support. I. THANK. YOU.
As I prepare to to board the plane in the next 20 minutes, say a prayer for me and send some well wishes for a safe journey from Indy to D.C. and back!
And as a light token of my appreciation for you, here is a poem to get you through the day. This one is called “Epilogue”.
EPILOGUE Somewhere in the cosmos. I wake from a nightmare—the same one I’ve had for a while: never making it back home to tell the story of how we came to be. I don’t remember the tragedy of the nightmare. I wake, feeling of failure. My casa particular has a distinct window that captures the crown of the sun before it fully rises, but for now I see the promise of its indigo-cornflower hues slowly wiping the stars out of view. I gather myself into gray joggers, a blue hoodie with CUBA double-stitched in scarlet & white & scarf down leftover platanos maduros. Crisp autumn air blows between cotton fibers, wakes me up as I attempt one last morning run before I leave this place. Silence blankets the cobblestone & the panaderia whispers traces of bread & cinnamon as the baker braces himself for the long shift ahead. After stretching, I muster one last jump & shimmy to get the blood flowing. Bembé steps from behind the windowsill, dusts flour from his hands in the doorway. Vamos, come. Puedes correr más tarde. Permanecer.
To stay in know about my research trip, consider joining my subscriber chat, where I’ll post updates and videos over the next five days. Who knows, you might get to see a poetry performance or two while I’m there!
Writefully Yours,
Thomas
Your support keeps this poetic ship sailing.
No really, it does. Your support sustains my research (because full-time writer life is HARD) and a lifetime supply of…kale, bananas, and blueberries from ALDI (I’m kidding about the lifetime supply part, but you get what I mean). In all seriousness, your support allows me to continue to serve the communities of which I am a part (i.e., Substack, local, regional, and national). By becoming a paid subscriber, you're not just getting more content; you're becoming a poetic patron, fueling the creativity and keeping poetry alive. When you’re ready, click that "Subscribe Now" button!
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