Justice doesn’t look like anything.
It is as invisible as the push of air that comes from the pounding of the gavel of the judge who gave a guilty verdict.
It is as free flowing as the words spoken by a survivor no longer forced into silence.
Yet it is as constrained as our politicians are when their feet are in their mouths,
Crying of “legitimate rape” and stripping away
Our justice doesn’t look like anything.
Our justice is in our movements, our actions,
and the wind that moves us to rise,