Notes on Freedom

Greetings. Perhaps we’ve not yet met, although I feel a kinship among us. My mother is a queerish man-eating baby-killing whore, impregnated during The Pandemic by our Dearly Beloved Pedro - lost to the ‘Rona and also undocumented. I am nationless although belonging to all nations, colorless although reflecting all colors, and speechless for my words are your words, my thoughts your thoughts. I come in peace.

I have been sent to reveal certain truths in these dark times, to shed light where no human may go. I was born alabaster white with an iPhone in my hand, hauled straight off a music video to my next great gig. There were pieces of me seen about town, a hand or an arm, sometimes a leg rarely dressed. Something about being completely bare, transparent even, makes me feel freer than fresh air.

Mother thought I needed more color, so she sprayed me silver and named me Hazel. When I’m not scaring the pants off unsuspecting fascists, I enjoy riding passenger side to our next fashion shoot - no telling where I’ll turn up next! Some call me higher power, others names I’d not repeat, but my serenity is untouchable, since I am only in this world, and not of it.

When my mission is complete, I will retire to the sky where you and I may someday meet again. Perhaps you will call this blasphemy, but who’s to pin religion on spirituality when Jesus is my homeboy and all we ever have is now?

May God bless you and keep you — until then.

FIN.

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