scared

A pulling downward

Some kind of force

Bigger than I’m willing

To say

My voice may crack

I cannot be trusted

With the sound

Of my own name

My own gifts

They choke

In a throat

That needs

Water

I am parched

Dry

Unwilling

Scared

Stubborn

So I fight the love

rest in the fear

Run fast

And remain aloof

I dare you to chase me

I dare you to not

There is not easy way

To win

To clear answers

Nothing to do

But let me wander

Back to you

To me

No

Some of us did not die

In the war

Some of us

Escaped

Went into ourselves

Recoiled

And shape shifted to fit

In corners

Our bones bent forever

To fit tight spaces

Some of us fought bravely

Lost limbs in a war our own

Some of us

Just drift downward

We become quack mire

Sinking sand

Some just are scared

Some just are scared

firewall

Firewall

There are some fire walls

Ones built up

With strong materials

Fortified

By time

And tested

By lovers like you

There are some fire walls

Ones that

Come from not having

A mother

Not knowing where you

Belong

If you are just another regret

I said the last time

Was the last time

That.. that time

Was the worse time

I took a vow

Of loving myself first

And build the fire wall

It won’t be penetrated

By persistence

Or good conversation

It won’t be knocked down

By compliments

It’s strong

Tough like

Me

I build a firewall

I’ve taken to many

Hits

To not be careful

I can’t afford

To be careless with my tender

Heart

I built a firewall

And by cover of night

I secretly wish you would

Knock it down 

that you would extinguish 

any trace of resistance

any hint of doubt 

that the firewall 

would become

our love fireproofed 

its raining in Anacostia

It’s raining in Anacostia 

All the street corner prophets on

The block of

Good Hope Road

Have traded sermons and

Daps

For umbrellas

And quick steps

No one wants to get caught in the rain

We have seen too much of it

So we scurry

Off to places unknown

Cuss metro buses

A8 and W6

Slower

On streets

Lines with potholes

Promises

And sleek from the wetness

Of it all

Tears blend into rain drops

Maybe it’s raining

Rain knows

We can’t be insular

 Isolated

Bound by unspoken lines

And rivers forever

There is development going up

St. Elizabeth’s East

And housing prices rising

On the horizon

It’s raining in Anacostia

Quiet today

Solemn for is

What has been?

And what is coming 

quicksteps

Don't ever be so sure of your steps
Your forget falling
I can't tell you how many times
I've tripped
Over familiar paths
I consider myself sure footed
Able to navigate
Look down occasionally
But for the most part look ahead
Backwards sometimes
To fortify myself
To remember
But often times
It makes me quicken the pace
there is somethings there
i would rather forget
i end up running
fast without any idea
of why
i am going
so full speed ahead into the unknown
i think i like
the challenge
the undoableness
of it all
it beckons me
so i quickstep
in love
into work
into life 

never looking 

down

for landmines
cliffs
that are unexpected
hurdles my legs are
not yet strong enough to jump
how often
i have not been careful
my mother would call me clumsy
half hazard

i just like the rush of rushing
in my youth
my body
my mind
my heart was able to recover faster
from missteps
and mistakes
i am learning in
maturity
to be cautious
still adventurous
still free
still willing
just wise
to the lessons
learned from falling
hard
and not having
anyone to tell me slow down
so im telling you 

Don't ever be so sure of your steps
Your forget falling
I can't tell you how many times
I've tripped

   Over familiar paths

A long ride

There is a long bus

Riding up 16^th street tonight

One small victory

For the working poor

On a Wednesday in December

With biting wind

And the patience of Job

Yes I am excited that

The restaurant workers

And office cleaners

The security guard

And nurse aides

Get a seat on the bus tonight

Most of the people who get on

Tonight

At 11:18 PM will ride a while?

The bus lurching

Slower because it’s bigger

But still there is room for us all

Most weekends

There are well dressed white people

Who take the s4 or s2

Quick stops

With bags of wine

Or pizza from whole foods

The weather is usually better than

On nights like tonight

When it’s cold

There is a sea

Of brown and black faces

The only goal is to get home

Weary from waiting on buses

Weary from waiting on people

Weary

The metro doesn’t care what your job is

They keep raising fares

But the article in the post about workers and commute

And buses that are to full

Has made it impossible to ignore the need

There is a long bus

Up 16^th street tonight

I hope it remains

That way

A memorial

To blood sweat tears

A reminder

That we are