Wednesday, January 30, 2013

stories


I haven’t felt myself
The weight of the work
Carried on shoulders
Not strong enough
To know that it is not me
Who sustains this

I think sometimes
That I must have a
Big ego
Some confidence
An audacity
To dream the world different

But I am just a girl
Who looks though
Pyramids
And sees possibilities
Narrow lens
And see a way

And I carry stories
Ones that threaten
To choke me
If I ever forgot
Their impact
Their magnitude

And this is an ode
For stories
For the people
Who have made it impossible
To forget
And the ones yet to come

And ode to my story
That converges
And meets in the middle

To the students
The women
The folks
Who inspire me
To fight
When Im down to nothing

Thank you
Because
I wouldn’t be myself
Wouldn’t feel myself
If I forgot
If I didn’t remember
 You

The work will be there
I will be there
The stories make it possible
To believe in something different

Wednesday, January 2, 2013

untitled


I was scared today
A brown boy
Who resembled my brother
With a ski mask
Pulled up over his head
Got on my train car
I gave him a half smile
Acutely aware of
The kindle fire
I fumbled to tuck into my bag
And I was nervous

I thought he might take
My new found Christmas present
I was reading
A book oddly enough called
Colonize this
People of color writing about
How colonization has impacted
The way they do life
Do love
Relate to people who look just like them

Somewhere between a college
Degree
And being a “young professional”
I have found myself in a weird
Juxtaposition 
Unable to relate
To my community
And scared
Of how un-black
That makes me
Then guilty
For ascension is never easy
With a race
A people
on your back

I was scared today
And I felt guilty
As I toyed with my coffee cup
I wondered if people saw me
What they would think
What kind of nicely dressed
Nigger bitch is scared of a
18 year old who could be her brother

Would it justify all their hatred if I too
Was nervous

One who
Preaches self love
And community
But is not quite sure what
The fuck that means
And who she is accountable to

I don’t know how this shell of a woman
The same one
That walked alleys with boys
With more bodies
Then parts
Teardrops and
Gang tattoos

Stuffed drugs in titties
Growing from puberty
And drove in stolen cars
More times than
She would ever admit
Could be scared

Where is fearless
Where is belonging
Where is home
When not only it but you
have become unrecognizable?

I was nervous today
And I wonder what kind of
Black girl
Clenches something
That isn't hers
Closely to her chest
So afraid of what she might loose
What she might give up
That she holds on to
A life that doesn't really belong to her

What kind of fraud what kind
Of colonized
Self loathing
White loving
Yuppie
Does it make me

That a boy who looked like my brother
Scared me
And I
Now scare me too



Whole Heart


Half woman
Half gypsy
My heart wonders
Aimlessly over hills
To restless
To settle on one spot
It may find rest
Instead
Im unsteady
Wobbles on unsure legs
I doubt
Will hold the weight
Of which I carry

Weight
That is found around fat
Edges of a heart
That drifts
Picks up
Debris of the wind
And wonders if it is possible
To ever stop
Or be still

Still waiting
Wishing that there would be
Some place I felt
I belong
I am no rebel
My nature
Dictates
That I must leave
Fear of failing
Makes me press on
constantly juggling
The practical
With the free

Free is how I love
While I carry open
Wounds I have yet to
Allow someone to cauterize
I give
Free falling
Equate love with never saying no
Because
No is a word
That has consequence negation
Has a but

But I am just woman
Just gypsy
Whose empty places
Take up a lot of 
Room in still ness
In sameness
In not leaving

Leaving is safe
A place my insolence
My inability
To conform 
Allows 
Leaving is always better
Than being left
Bitter jilted 
Gypsy
Who love left behind who love forgot

Forgot 
How hard it was 
To pry you heart 
Out of someone else's 
Hands as they hold on for 
Dear life
They don't know they are killing you 
Their love is strangling 
Your life 
The more you wrestle 
The tighter they get 
There are pieces that remain 
In their hands 
Permanent ink on palms 
Until we say words 
Like I need a whole heart

Whole