Waiting is the worst. They go day in and day out not knowing if they will see their loved ones again. The hearings are months away, and they sit in a cold, barred cell, isolated from the world—isolated from you.

But despite the cold repository that is the world’s shell, we can’t turn away from our core… our human core… the compassion, the empathy, the love that ensures we survive. For that’s the only reason we’re here.

I read about the billowing clouds of black and red smoke stealing the skyline, blocking any hope of sunshine. Don’t open your doors. Don’t go outside. Don’t breathe. People’s eyes and throats are burning from the evil in the air.

There is something in me that isn’t opaque.
There is something in me I can’t fake.
For luv’s sake, I can finally see I’m free — free to stand in what I believe and help others feel whole, transparent, and free.

Every person had a name. A story. A history. Ancestors. Family, children and people they loved.

But there came a day when I couldn’t just sit by any longer in the safety of my four doors.

The hot water dripped off my hair, my back, my arms and legs and joined together at the bottom of the bathtub before swirling down the drain.

A hot shower always lifted my spirits, making me feel more relaxed and calm, despite the world seemingly wanting to fall apart outside my apartment’s four walls.

They say it’s coming to an end.
I have trouble with that word.
For an “end” should mean it’s done —
that everything is back to the way it was.
But none of that is true.

It looks like any other neighborhood.
An ordinary walk on an ordinary street.
But as I move further,
the pleasant memories shift.
Something darker settles in.
Something imminent.

Something bright orange caught my eye on the pavement where the woman had been. It was a whistle—a small one she must’ve used to alert people that ICE was in the area. But they weren’t there any longer. The street was silent, with only the faint echo of a dog barking from a block over.

We are marching in the streets.
Side by side we stride.
Thousands of us with our feet on the ground.
We stand together in any weather, in any circumstance, choosing one another.

I value the other person in any conversation, even though we disagree, even though we don’t see eye to eye on so many things. I value listening, learning, and giving others the space they need to process things just as I do. I value freedom of expression and the freedom to be whoever I want in this life. I value all these things.

As I got closer, a glimmer caught my eye, shimmering in the moon’s beam, and I realized it wasn’t just snow or ice I was stepping on but shards of glass—hundreds of them scattered across the street right by the driver’s side door.

The month of January 2026 came to an end—
the frigid overcast days icy and plain. Snowflakes stuck to the glass, collected on the pavement. The wind numbed my face, numbed my soul.

They see the ICE agents patrolling their school. Their little eyes notice the empty desks and lockers of their classmates who have been taken.

These are pieces of you
in this keepsake box.

Pieces of your humanity
that I forgot.

The stench rose up to my nostrils.

This time,
I didn’t cover my nose.

i can’t pretend to be compassionate
i can’t pretend to be empathetic
if i don’t let go of the part of my identity
that makes me blind to human suffering

It’s depression that’s made me realize that I’m living on purpose, not with purpose. There’s a difference.  

She stands underneath the glittery, shimmery chandelier, as it pulses its blinding white lights back and forth across the dark shadows of the space.

To say today was a cold winter day in Minneapolis was an understatement. It was bone chilling cold.

It’s the type of cold that has thick tendril like fingers that wrap around your arms, your legs and braze your face as if not wanting to let go.