napowrimo 2017: #3

i may be writing
love letters to ghosts; complex
imagined fragments.

z. soledad

i have been opening to the blessings of solitude
since, in some ways, i have no choice.

i thought again of names.

zefina soledad

she that god has blessed with increase
yet who is often alone...

some part of my soul has named herself.

and it is good.

an aside

dear life,

you are throwin a sista a SERIOUS curveball right now.

i don't think i like it.

i'm trying to accept it. you know i have a bit of a control thing going.

i suppose...i'm just trying to understand. full circle i get. this? this is...beyond that.

gimme a clue?

thanks,

o.

soft

we tend to know when our babies ain't made for this world.

from mother mary to mama cissy there have been prayers for understanding, time...

but sometimes it's real from the first.

they too soft.
too good.
too sweet.
too loving.

baby smiles and childish giggles
clouded with worry, concern.

no babies
are made to fight machines
and survive

black babies are no different.

...but we are expected to be.
as if our rattles are made of steel
and we teethe on granite pebbles.

for those of beauty
taken under
and torn asunder...

basquiat
donnie
'trane
nippy
phyllis

& the unnamed
and unclaimed
of the streets
'hoods
and barrios:

for your sake,

may we heal
and know care;

nurture
and know love;

listen
and find peace.

skittles & iced tea

angel-faced
brown boy
not even as big as the other kids

but still a threat to someone...

i can't say i'm trying to make sense of the incident.
i know why it makes "sense". 

if i'm trying to make sense of anything,
it's why we've come this far
to learn so little.

i've spent so much time
trying to get the black men in my presence to relax
even when i know why they can't.

stories like this unravel all my weaving.

i suppose we can only do
what we can
where we can.

pray.

hope for the best.

maybe.

maybe more...

at the moment

yet again i dreamt of kissing a man i didn't really want.
not sure what that means.

energy's elusive
still.

sick of drinking water
even though i'm sure it's making me less sick

etc
and so on

i hope to be back in the swing of things very soon...

victory

lately, there have been many battles.

it's been a long time since i've been this weary.

it's also been a long time since i've felt this strong.

i am resting. building. learning. stretching.

even through tears.

i am the tiger's daughter,
newly named for a nubian lioness.

i know how to rest in the high grass

and wait.

but hunger is a compelling force.

when the time's right
i will pounce
and feast.

expect me.

as above, so below: a written meditation

some of us are comets, shooting stars, and meteors, 
meant to flash briefly, beautifully across the sky.

others are stars: fixed, nearly timeless;
distant, but burning bright with exemplary fire.

there are also planets among us:
folks creating and sustaining entire ecosystems in and around ourselves.

the early passing of comets, shooting stars and meteors is painful, but natural. we must let them go, grateful we saw them shine.

it's important to sustain gratitude for the impressions our stars leave behind.  even as they die, they create something new in their wake. 

as for the planets, we must learn to sustain them as they sustain us--for although they appear immortal, they too can pass away.

selah

embodiment

i don't always recognize this package i'm in.

it feels smaller than it has in a long time--certainly the smallest since puberty. still, i'm aware that folks outside of me still consider me quite tall and decidedly not-small.

my body's become more utilitarian, lighter. i am carrying only what i need, no more. the proverbial fat has been trimmed away, even if i can still pinch decent finger-fuls of it around my torso and thighs.

this has happened slowly, almost silently; an unintended side effect of some very intentional work.

i do not find this lightness of being unbearable. instead, it's a phenomenal blessing.

return

this has been waiting
patiently
for me to sit still
and let it go...

to acknowledge
and name it
although
it defies description.

i could be staring down
the answers of a thousand prayers;

witnessing the drying
of an ocean's worth of tears...

it wants to be claimed.

i want to be sure.

need
to be sure.

grateful in the meantime,
fearful in the knowing:

love
might live here
again.

reaching for the sun

words can't do this.

everything i could say about you feels cliche and tired. empty descriptions that can't possibly express the warmth of your arms or the sugar in your smile.

it's difficult to write poems for you.  i'd rather be a poem for you: something uplifting or pretty to hear; something to memorize and carry with you.

would you mind?

chasin paper

inspiration: twitter & sept. 17

too many holes
in too many hearts
stuffed with paper
money;

unpack 'em
and the light
and love
might creep in...

protect the hoard
at all costs
let it fill our ears
better yet,
cover our eyes...

your greed
cannot obscure the truth:
no matter what it buys,
poverty of spirit
can never be
abundance.

please hold a moment...

started to post something last night/this morning, but it was too raw. didn't wanna expose y'all to all that blood and sinew so early.

i'm living in it, but you don't have to.

yeah, sometimes i toss up my ripped-open heart for your eyes and ears. but those things often get posted weeks, months, or years after i've written them.

being ready to share is a funny thing; it happens when it happens. it can be in the moment, or when i dig up an old journal during a cleaning jag.

today, i'm not ready. but i'll write it down somewhere.

i'll holla.

season of discomfort

putting on layers
just to snatch them off...

kicking off covers,
then shivering.

temperamental shower temperatures...

all to make room for
dying leaves
and more cold.

autumn
never gets easier.

love as battlefield

in dialogue with Maman Danto

it is never easy
being forced to see my heart

leaning in to examine
the scar tissue
band-aids
and still-bleeding wounds...

even with help,
trudging through a battlefield
is difficult.

linen

i had
to change the bed;

the sheets
looked too empty
without you.

the audacity of hope

i.

after taking
the first step
(dreaming together in
wide arcs and
fanciful possibilities),
we crafted a brief reality
filled with long kisses and
sweet smiles.

ii.

i'm at a loss
to describe what i felt
and what i'm feeling.

but i know the words
i long to hear you say
and what i'd do
to be worthy of them.

in passing...

returning from a visit to see mother, i wandered by a tree with very unusual leaves.

its roots were twisted and tangled and seemed a little bunched up, all but straining to respect the boundary of the sidewalk.

(i can only assume they weren't happy when it was built, but have since resigned themselves to the exchange: a little bondage, to live)

i thought, "hello. i've never seen a tree like you before..."

i sensed a faint but audible reply: "few who pass here think those thoughts or speak to me..."

that nearly stopped me cold, but i had to move on. still, i took a moment to send it some loving energy.

next time i walk that way, i'll stay awhile.

inhalation

i smelled you today.

well, more like
i smelled that same detergent
without you underneath.

but that was enough
to take me back
to nights in your bed
enfolded in firmly placed
nutmeg arms...
safer than i'd been in years.

hoping for that kiss
on the back of my neck
informing me
you weren't asleep
after all...

hearts & stars

for lf

1.
curious cats
joined by sun and moon
and nearly as far apart.

i enjoy the effervescence
of zero gravity orbit,
but pray
for an eclipse.

2.
circumstance is a strange thing.
it seems to stand in the way
when, actually,
it slowly, sweetly
opens spaces and bides time;
makes room for revelations and
well-timed whispers.