The Poetry Marathon

I don’t owe you reparations or a doorway to freedom.

Taking down a flag, mascot, or statue only penetrates my hatred for you deeper.

You want a new system then go back to Africa, but don’t dare create your own.

I don’t need you to have a place to call home.

I need you to continue to seek the white man’s gaze.

Jim Crow wrote the letter and the bible to our deceitful ways.

We don’t need to be the KKK or to be a racist,

the ideology has been ingrained into every fabric you wrap yourselves in at night.

We dominate your health care, your schools, your churches, and your social service.

I merely need to be the gatekeeper of history to remind you of my hero Willie Lynch’s public message.

Music leads the way in which we move, think and create.

As India encourages us to “Get it together.” Embracing our uniqueness and undocumented beauty.

Standing in formation while I’m telling these tears, “Go and fall away, fall away”,

oh, may the last one burn into flames.”

Freedom lives in the mind and maybe this is all just a game and we just need to stop

chasing waterfalls.

Knowing my feet is my only carriage so I’ve got to push on through it all.

On and on Lauren keeps killing me softly with her song.

Whether we are ready or not we want to settle the score.

Continuously told keep ya head up as we question what’s going on around us every day.

We must fight the powers that be so our children can be free.

Jhene comforting us with a frequency towards the hope that someday we’ll all be free.

I just want some real love in my next lifetime so I can be golden and glisten upon the waves of the sea.

Breonna.

Shot without a case, a human disgrace.

How can you say this wasn’t about race?

Her body cannot be replaced.

Breonna.

A mother’s screams fall on deaf ears, as the sirens turn into nightmares.

Crucified because her skin wasn’t fair or because you didn’t see white in the middle of the night?

Breonna.

Damn. The story doesn’t change she was asleep in her bed before ya’ll shot her dead.

A vibrant young black woman trying to make a difference in this world.

She probably gave CPR to several white girls.

An awarded EMT who gave life to others but that doesn’t matter when all you see is color.

Breonna.

My heart breaks daily for your mother and for those who loved you like no other.

Your dreams were taken, and I don’t want to know why.

I want to see those who fired bullets into your flesh behind bars for the rest of their lives.

I want your memory to stay alive and I want your spirit to thrive.

Breonna.

A reliance heavily on self without the unwanted influence of others.

Careful with whom is granted access to her life.

Find her in the bookstore corner quietly skimming the markdowns.

See her in the grocery store shopping while listening to 90’s music through her air pods.

Catch her walking with a slight smile along the edges of the beach.

Watch her sit focused in a group while others wait for her to speak.

Her ability to restart and readjust her life defies defeat.

Known to only a few, a conscious choice she makes to contain her peace.

Introvert does not equate to shy; it is equivalent to the internal compass used to bypass

people’s bullshit.

The sunlight breaks aggressively through the curtains.

Bed covers mimic the gentle touch of a lover.

As my eyes open to hear the cabinets slam close and the refrigerator slowly creaking open.

I thought my daughter was still asleep.

My son has left for work, so I sit upright to take in a deep breath.

Swinging my weary legs to the edge of the bed,

I feel my bones awakening to the urgency of the day.

My mind begging me to stay in a bit longer, I quietly slide into the bathroom.

Looking in the glass mirror, it enhances every scar, blemish and discoloration.

Still my beauty intensifies against this false representation.

As my clothes drop to the floor, I step into the steam and allow the water to comfort every inch of my body.

Feeling the perfection of my curves and softness of my skin.

Assuring myself the attire for the day would be both comfortable and chic.

Anticipating the coffee brewing with the intoxicating smell of hazelnut and cocoa beans.

As I slowly sip the liquid, I turn up the heat on my daughter’s omelet.

Hoping this time, it doesn’t burn.

Watching her carefree spirit brings me joy,

the innocence, growth, and brilliance leave me in awe.

Living in this moment, I know we are blessed.

As my tribe strives each day to do our very best.

He captures the boldness of an eagle.

Aura illuminating the complexity of the color black.

Draped in white with traces of gold.

Feet covered by the grace of his mother’s soul.

Eyes that pierce like a serpent, something vicious.

Skin that is deep, dark, and delicious.

Arms he used to lift the burdens from the women in his life.

Voice with a tone as smooth as Barry White.

Quiet is his demeanor, but his words eradicate fires.

Quick to spot a bold face liar.

Agenda created to elevate those he loves higher.

He is every man’s reflection and every woman’s unknown desire.

You would often say,” I want to go by the water.”

The salty smell and temperamental waves brought you peace eventually became your sanctuary.

You loved how the deep blues and somber grays mimicking the rich clouds in the sky.

As you watched the fishes jump up high in the air, I can see a childlike joy in your smile.

The refreshing cycle of life.

The highs and lows of it all displayed for the world to see.

It was enough for your toes to graze the edge as you took in your chosen destination upon this land.

Missing the softness of your cheeks and how you often watched your grandchildren with care.

It’s strange how we took for granted you would always be there.

A fighter with the heart of gold so many stories were left untold.

Your sense of style has been adopted by your only granddaughter.

Your presence felt in the heart of your grandsons.

Each of us have continued to hold on to your spirit, grace and hope.

Assuring ourselves that we could never forget the imprint you left on this world.

Forever blessed to have shared space with you, to have your tears drop on my shoulder, to

see your smile and rub your feet.

Mom your transition reminded me that without you in this life I could never be complete.

You can tell when a woman has been through a lot, it’s the weariness of her face.
The erasure of her smile replaced with a blank stare.
She isn’t broken just tired of the lies.
Don’t mistake or assume her demise.

She hasn’t lost hope.
Hope just sits around the corner waiting to hear back from a wait list that never gets shorter but continues to grow day by day.
Using the strength she has to rise from her pillow only to allow her head to fall in that same place night after night.
Worrying if her children can sleep without the lights.

Tears no longer fall from her eyes.
She learned those drops didn’t change the fact that her baby has to eat.
Watching her own dreams  become obsolete.
A numbness washes over her body as she lays submerged in the water.
Cleansing her aching bones and reviving her relentless spirit.

You see her everyday working in the office next to you, sitting in her car in traffic, or standing at the bus stop.

She maybe feeding her children an orange while waiting under a stop sign holding a family in need sign.
She is the prayer, the plea and the redemption.

Her resilience echoes a vibration the universe cannot deny it can only supply and fulfill her desperate needs.

Leave them in awe of your determination.

Give them a lesson on your resilience.

Teach them to hold space for your presence.

Lead them towards an openness that closes the door to perceptions.

Hold them gently within the moments you share.

Leave them with a legacy to carry when you transition and the physical can no longer be there.

Give them a playbook to guide them towards self-sufficiency.

Teach them the truth about their ancestry and the power running through their veins.

Hold them in times of sorrow and pain.

Leave them better than you found them, so rejection doesn’t drive them insane.

Give them praise as they develop into their own uniqueness.

Teach them love is not conditional but transformative in each individual.

11:11 is a reminder to look inward to create internal peace and embrace the core of my being.

A signal from my ancestors to live in the present with the conviction of their past.

To stay in sync with who I am and not the person the world has molded.

To resemble light and trust the capabilities I possess.

To rest with assurance of my carefully designed spirit.

To be aware of those who do not know themselves.

To connect to the frequency of the earth through meditation.

To see 11:11 as a guide to my current destination.