napowrimo 2017: #1&2

revolution comes
in the quiet spaces:

an art of paradox
contradiction
and complication
made frighteningly simple
by
urgency.

it arrives
between breakthroughs,
over breakdowns;

on the soles
of praise dancers;

dissolved under the tongue
like curing poisons.

by the time it's witnessed,
the work's already done.

love, z.s.

{reference points}

there never would have been enough strength. what you needed me to do, be, threatened to break my back.

so i walked.
walked fast, far and long.

i found a place for myself.
a small, simple, pretty place i love.

i had no choice but to make it home.

i found other ways to love.  but none that awakened. none that stayed weekends, cooked breakfast, or drew baths.  none that fed me soup or wrapped me in blankets when the chill came.  none that laughed, cried or moaned with me.  none that kissed me in the rain.

i loved in cool, collected ways.  ways that earned gratitude, friendships and laughter.  ways that danced, sung, prayed sometimes.  it was not passion, but it was often joy.  most of the time, this was enough, this open, public love.

most.

i manage.
i survive.

my heart is a kind of desert, one that remembers itself as rainforest: lush and fertile, plush with brilliant flowers and technicolor birds.

yes, there is beauty in the desert: a stark palette of necessity, utility.  the sky is still its blue; some cacti flower.

life just under the surface...love buried in sand full of dormant seeds and preserved pollen.  the arid blessing that maintained the bodies of ancestors for thousands of years.  a whispering love, praying the wind will serve as audience.  the occasional, elusive oasis fed by hidden waters.

it is there.

it is still deciding what to be.

brash as an explorer, excavating buried realms?
skittish as a lizard?

it survives, though.

like so many things that shouldn't, but do...it survives.

because it is, i am.

and i go on.

in my little home
in the desert

with
a love
that
awaits
a monsoon.

coming home near sunset...

sweet dollop half moon
lounging in
cotton candy sky

grateful
for the honeybee
that nearly lit on my hand
at lunch

for seeing through honeyed eyes
even with no explicit reason
for dulcet expressions.

maybe i can finally
touch my own center...

make beauty effortless
effortlessly see myself

effortlessly see...

sense
something
more...

full moon musings {9/2011}

emerging
surging
bursting
out of thought-notions no longer capable
of holding me;
wavy lines
replacing
box outlines;
feeling the moon
in my bloodstream
luxuriating in universal illumination;
i don't know myself
but i do
and i love her
just as well.

transmuting transportation

bus passes
passing for
gris gris
around our necks.

constantly traveling,
but do we know
our companions?

cameras
masquerading as
watchful eyes
while our ancestors
lie listless
in their loving.

we have
forgotten to call
their names
even as they shout ours.

gone are conquering roots and
strong hands;
magnetized plastic mantras
guide us to
our destinations.

our ears must attune
to something other than
train announcements.

maybe i should
shake a shekere and
see who comes
running off the platforms
easing from the bus stops
to listen.

switch

if i didn't know any better
i'd worship at your feet
the way you once did at mine.

dilemma

you have returned,
bearing joy
lust
shame
and freedom

in equal measure.

commute

as i drove
the sun kissed my left cheek

smiled sadly.

thought about our ruins
the baby that didn't stay...

freedom.

the reasons why the season means so much
and so little.

cried.
moved on.
pushed through.

again.

full

{birthed jan. 2006}

he says i'm full lately...
becoming womanly.
i feel
big
heavy with creativity
universes
potentialities.

my babies
lack physical manifestation--
i bear lyrical children
foster positive living environments for metaphors
carry messages on my hips
diplomatically translated
by my inbetween.

i am
more woman now
no need to roar...
returning to the comfort
of womb whispers
and peacock feathers.

my weapons:
earth tones
headwraps
and bluejeans.

call me boho if u wanna
i was who i was
when erykah wasn't on the radar yet
and india was stll singin in coffeeshops

...hoppin planets
just for fun
ain't too much in my line of sight
worthy of keeping me grounded.

dreams reflected
in diamond sutras
and wide-ruled notebooks...
don't care if you think
i'm perpetuating bullshit
goddess/empress/queen images
unrealistic pussy powers.

complexity is my birthright.

why perpetuate mediocrity?
inferiority?

i am made in the image of
god
ancestors
africans
angels

who are you keeping alive?

i am
more woman now
heavy
heavy
heavy...

i am
due
today.

chant

you don't have to love me
just love my body
need me
like water
like water
drippin' like water

drink me
there is enough to quench any thirst
you've ever had

tease me
please me
please
i won't beg
...much more

gimme
gimme
gimme more
savory kisses 
sweet tongue flicks
turn sentences into stutters
with naughty whispered words

use me
for good or ill

all is fair, here, love

you don't have to love me
don't have to love me
just
need me
savor me
drink me
like water...

tell mama the truth

no, i'm not warm enough.
and i didn't have enough to eat.

i did brush my teeth
and put on clean underwear
...that's the easy part.

but i don't know where i'm going
and i'm not ok...

yeah, i need the money
no, i won't ask.
i'm enough trouble
already

don't mean to lie,
i'm just not worth the worry.

you're sweet to ask,
but,
i'll get by.