Late Nights, Early Mornings: NPS Edition

it started after group piece finals. after the obligation of competition lifted and I could truly breathe in the present as it was. we headed back to the hotel, and joined in on what felt like a back alley dice game in its rawness, though there was no aggression, no disadvantage, just all love and opportunity to share who you were on the mic. 
nupic is the purest slam I've ever seen, and it was beautiful in a way that's hard to describe. if I envied, it was the ones who said truths unearthed after digging deep, so deep that they had to scream out the words, though that may not have been the intention. I watched like a small child, marveling at the sacrifice and bravery.
after, filled with adrenaline and love I circled the lobby looking for something to pour my heart into. I thought I wanted it to come out in my poetry, that is how I usually release now, but I couldn't find what I was looking for. I wanted a drink, just to enjoy a cold beer as though that would make the moment that much sweeter, but my spirit wouldn't let me search enough to find it. 

Boston sunrise

once I made the decision to go, to go find "it," it led me and my brother to the 15th floor of the hotel. and although our destination was originally higher, the unlocked Empress room door and the wall of windows felt like x marked spot of our adventure. beginning and not end. we gazed at the skyline over the charles river in muted, astonished, marvelous silence. the sky was still dark enough to illuminate the lights in the buildings, and as the sun rose, glistened off the water, the shadows stood up and slinked back in appreciation of her majesty.
 people came, younger poets young at heart and looking for the memory that would last. they were respectful of the silence, revered the space we'd created. soon, we were surrounded by eagerness, and I couldn't scrape the smile off my face.
they found a way outside, and soon, we were witnessing all this up close, accompanied by the warmth and chill of the morning and a slight wind. I asked my brother to spit, not expecting him to freestyle the moment into verse, but he did, and it worked beautifully. the entire time - since leaving nupic - I felt like something special would happen. I didn't know what, but I was to be finding out with someone I've come to hold close.
I recited Music, and although the reverence of beauty had started to fail in silencing them, i felt like I was speaking to everyone present. it was an honor.
we only left once a hotel employee told us we couldn't be there. we walked into town so he could take pictures of the street art. he wanted the architecture, but there was no disappointment because the Most High had already blessed us with a beautiful morning. we dare not ask for anything else. we simply flowed. 

street art

it was about 6:45 a.m. and we'd stayed up the whole night. we needed food and I suggested a place in davis square I'd discovered before a bout. we had egg sandwiches and he listened to me talk, sympathized with all the struggles and hardships I've endured this summer in slam.
when we left, a poet sat outside the cafe, selling copies of his poems for $5. Ricardo, with the two-toned eyes and grey hair. he read a poem probably older than us both, and it made me grateful. we bought a copy of whispers, me combining one of my two-dollar bills with his $3. if you're gonna spend a two-dollar bill, let it be worth it.
on the train back, we snatched winks and embraced the tired that had seeped into our bodies. the walk back was not long. i disregarded a woman's bitter, her anger, because she obviously wanted to hold onto it - I let her - and he reassured me that my heart was in the right place.
I didn't want to sleep once we parted ways and I got back to my room. I knew I needed to. I laid out the blanket with a little more cushion and slept uncovered. the day had been so good, I reluctantly and quickly fell asleep, like a child the night before the first day of school.
two hours later, I was too excited about the morning to sleep. I went for my brother, but he was spent. 
I let him sleep, and followed some other siblings out again, this time to a Dunkin Donuts. on the way, during and after, I talked with my little sister about accepting what you have been given, and not feel apologetic about it. i paid for her food and drink, and sat with another small makeshift family, the boys still wrapped up in the strategy of the competition. on the way back, my little sister shared her joyous news with a brother, and he danced a happy that made me smile. it was a kind moment.
somehow we parted ways differently than imagined at the hotel, and instead of experiencing the planned picnic, i stumbled into an old-fashioned tea party. it was deliberate and exclusive. women, queer, trans only. this created a space for us to talk candidly over hot tea and pound cake, cheese, crackers and "bad bitch lunchables." seated in our circle were some of the most talented and revered women in poetry, and I felt honored to share such a space with them. the experience was needed, especially for me, and I was grateful.
after two hours, people started to disperse, and I snuck off to the room to sleep. the nap was only 15 minutes. even still, it felt like I woke up to a new day. there was still one major thing to do - finals night - and I knew it wouldn't disappoint.