Waxing poetic on thoughts, theory & the times
I’m in love
With a man I’ll never fully understand,
There is a mystery in his depths,
A beauty to his quirk,
I’m captivated,
And intoxicated by his everything,
And he is mine and I am his
Sans the limitations of a wedding ring,
We will always find each other,
Across the miles, minutes, hours,
My want of him is more than physical,
It is out of body, spiritual,
And we will always fall
back together,
Until the end of time,
Forever and ever.
Tongue
Bit
Teeth set,
Say nothing
Out of line
With the norm,
Status quo,
Don’t rock the boat,
Itch,
Cough,
Sneeze,
All is fine,
Strain
To
Breathe,
Remove your mask
To show your
Smile
They are unearthing babies,
Children
Who never had a chance,
Against a system we still don’t understand,
That takes and takes and takes,
My human heart hurts,
My sentient heart hurts,
My living heart hurts,
For a wrong far too late to correct,
And as the numbers tally up
Let us not lose sight of the numbers that are really lives,
Of the lives that were not lost
But taken
Stolen,
Genocide in and of our recent time,
And we haven’t learned our lesson,
As we hold stolen children,
This time immigrants in cages,
For being the wrong…
Color,
Creed,
Nationality,
Ethnicity,
Race,
An inconvenience to other plans,
Inconvenience in this land,
Stolen,
Stolen lands,
Stolen children,
Stolen lives
We traveled the roads
Traced the Appalachian to the end of the trail,
Found flat land in Ohio,
And wondered if we saw the edge of forever.
Turned back around to where my family is found
Pennsylvania:
forestry,
farmland,
mountains;
found,
The space I remembered,
With something missing.
Someone.
Felt the drop of my heart floor once more,
Knowing she is only partway here
Though her spirit everywhere,
And with him still
–Papa, in his recliner
Watching the great-grand kids play,
I brew and bring him Coffee
Cream, no sugar,
Little offerings,
Of thanks,
For everything that is,
Everything we are.
As I reach back in generations
I feel closeness to the Divine,
To the source,
Tears are all I have,
To praise and comfort
For we are live, and we are mortal.
As the morning broached;
Leaving,
The heaviness settles to the bottom of my heart,
I am smiling,
With tears in eyes,
Never knowing the finality of each time we part,
Knowing love,
And that must be enough.
[IMAGE: Mural in Minneapolis by Xena Goldman, Cadex Herrera, Greta McLain, Niko Alexander, and Pablo Hernandez]
What is justice,
When the only proof of a lynching is the very image of it happening,
Again and again?
What is justice when this is the exception?
This is a sick feeling of knowing,
Nothing will bring back
The life battled for,
Too little too late,
What is justice when the very judgement brings with it a greater sense of fear for those of deeper pigmentation?
For vigilante retribution? Revenge?
Why does the hammer of judgement only
Bring to mind more images
More worries
of breathless lungs,
bodies burning,
Of bodies swinging;
That strange fruit
Our people know too well?
May our prayers of peace,
Of this first as a trend
Be met with a change,
A shift,
Be met with true justice,
–Let [it] “roll down like waters
and righteousness like a mighty stream”
I will not look upon
A young boy being slain,
Further trauma is not in the healing,
This
Is not working.
The mission changes, but the purpose never did,
To cage, enslave, end black and brown bodies,
This justice was never just,
It was always just
law and order
–Property protection at any cost,
We will blame the victim,
Will interrogate their life,
Ignoring the bottom line,
Innocent until proven guilty,
And justice is not decided by the police.
A knee,
a choke hold
a tazer-a pistol,
TOmato- tomAto,
At the end of the day
Another dark one dead,
Justice by Homicide,
Another case is at end.
She of Letters 