A gathering is where it started:
I see black and brown faces talking about
white missionaries who think a bullet can save
me from my blackness,
And I feel at home as ever because I thought
I was the only one because that is what
society teaches you.
I’ve finally started writing
I’ve never written about this topic because the silence
Of my pen will never be as strong, never be as deep, never
Be as stifling as the moment of silence from a mother.
I’ve never written about this topic because I’m afraid.
Where I’m From, Where I Am Now
Long, strong eyelashes
Reaching back to the young Egyptian King Tut.
Knowing, chocolate-brown eyes from Frederick Douglas,
Seeing liberated lands in the words, interdimensional portals.
I exude the boldness of Harriet Tubman
My stature not enough to contain my iron will.
I wonder why you hold me back and why you insist I keep quiet while absorbing all the noise around me, letting the painful whispers behind me affect me. Every other part of me has the urge to move forward with the momentum of a runner pushing through the plastic ribbon that is the finish line.