The Fabric
Performed by Molly Cullen at Kiazii Open Mic Protest
Friday, September 12, 2025
I’m no textiles expert but
I can’t stop thinking about the
so called fabric of our nation.
This promise that the threads of
democracy, equality, & freedom
were woven together to form the bedrock of this country.
Maybe we’d believe it,
if that very cloth weren’t derived from
cotton grown on stolen land
picked by trafficked people
woven by beaten hands.
The fabric of this nation.
Is this the same fabric that now
ships to our doors in 24 hours
stained with the blood of forced labor?
Overflows not only our own landfills
but landfills across the globe?
A reflection of our American obsession with cloth.
A reflection of our American obsession with hiding.
The fabric of our nation.
Would this be the same fabric churning out of American prisons in the form of
military fatigues and police uniforms?
sent to terrorize people in DC, Chicago, Memphis.
Cloth cut and crafted by handcuffed hands to handcuff more hands.
That fabric?
Do we want material change
enough to change the materials?
The fabric of this nation has been
stretched and stained,
folded and pinned just so,
but there are tears in the cloth
A population of descendants of
a so called melting pot of people who invaded, people who never asked to be here, people who were uprooted, and people who came here for a chance.
And somehow we are meant to believe that fabric made of stolen materials with stolen labor on stolen land could make a home.
Well, we’re here now.
And there’s no way but forward,
you and me and this god damn mess of a country.
Do we want material change enough
to change the material?
To allow the fabric to decompose,
To strip away the layers until there’s
nothing left but damp, soft earth.
Close your eyes.
You can feel it can’t you?
The soil blackening your knees, your fingertips,
the beckoning of creation.
You see them, don’t you?
The sprigs, ferns, seedlings of those who found and tended this soil far before we did.
Planted seeds praying for our arrival,
and here we are
Settle in.
Find a spot that will get plenty of sun.
Dig to your second knuckle
and plant your seed,
and, this part is important, stay close.
Keep tending.
Keep watering.
And know that when the fabric of this nation finally decomposes to its last stitch
we’ll have already bloomed.
