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- What's it like to spend a week in the life of a fall SiD student?
- "The Number One Thing Every Detroiter Must Do (Or, a History of Detroit)"
- Leaders and Best? Questioning the UM “Detroit Center for Innovation”
- A week in the life of a SiD student - spring/summer edition!
- Student Perspective: Choosing a Fall Semester in Detroit
- Beyond Land Acknowledgements
- Detroiters Speak Debut at the New General Baker Institute
- Welcome, Kim Sherobbi - New SiD Community Advisor
- Five Reasons to Do Semester in Detroit in the Fall
- Attention Community Partners: SiD Spring Program Cancelled
- What's Next for Detroiters Speak?
- With Solidarity from Semester in Detroit
- Looking for some remote engagement with Detroit this spring semester?
- Wrapping Up Spring Courses
- Coming this Fall: Semester in Detroit - The Hybrid Edition
- Congratulations, Student Recruitment Team Grads!
- Movement for Black Lives: Reflections, Statements, and Resources
- U-M in the Era of Black Lives Matter & Mass Incarceration
- Congrats Jaylah Davis - 4th Annual Recipient of the General Baker Scholarship!
- SiD Fall 2020 Goes Virtual (Join the club!)
- Alumni Perspective: Ali Elatrache
- Reflections on Voter Outreach with Frontline Detroit
- Alumni Perspective: Natalie Suh
- Faculty Contribution: "Heart Sutra"
- Alumni Perspective: Hannah Myers
- Wrapping up Fall 2020 with the Core Four
- Special Election Year Interview w/ Taylor-Ryan Nedd, SiD 2015 Alumna
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The clicking and burbling of starlings:
otherworldly, haunting, alien calls
the foreign chatter of outsiders
brought to this land from an other place, released
left to fend for yourselves or die trying
why do we resent you your resilience?
single you out, pests,
to be relocated, blocked, removed
do we fear what is different from us?
When the exterminators come, do they see
how the light dances across your purple armor
sparkling, iridescent in its glow
the breathtaking sheen
of hundreds of shimmering specks of gold
catching the light
do they notice and feel ashamed?
I have seen you.
At dusk each evening when the fog
of the day’s heat falls away
you arrive promptly to the nest
moth fluttering in the grip of your beak
the hungry chipping of your young
and then a brief moment—I swear
I have seen it. A moment of recognition
for the sacred gift of that moth
and I join you in this: gate gate paragate
parasamgate bodhi svaha
but most of all the brilliant consistency of it!
shall I ever witness anything