Some lights are extinguished without
the very human dignity of breath.
The flicker small with hopes of one day becoming important and disappear quietly.
They go into the night air.
If there were screams they must’ve
surely been drowned out by
Left waving in silence at the abyss.
The magnitude of notoriety
is only given to particular flesh
in this world.
Notoriety, which through wealth, makes their glow something of worth.
Which, through media, makes them memorable.
Which, through the very structure of violence, makes their hurt real.
Some lights wait in corridors for acknowledgement-
laboring intently to be seen.
Never realizing the strength of their own warmth.
No one wants to die that way.
Caught between the notions of practical concern and real terror.
His body was an experiment, fertile.
Made ripe through melanin.
His body was carted over every middle passage,
over every needle thermometer- red.
The continent has lost a great many to this crisis.
And the few valid voices are given
to missionaries turned martyr.
The modern day saint is a pale faced news short.
An Oklahoma native,
destined for darker lands.
Lucifer is epidemic.
And our bones have become less visible
Our bones have become less visible
Our bones have become less visible.
if this supposed knowledge was measured in cents. . .
our nation would be
black coal never pressed.
try to imagine in less words.
galaxies can be shaped with flesh.
it is not my doing
to convert jesus to energy
remember, from purveyor to observer, big movements start small in hearts
sometimes things needn’t be made too much thought
the red clay which shaped man was humble beginnings
choosing gratitude in light.
in land, water, old roads, and song
there is truth.
it’s lasting image through good works
soft and calloused.
this universe is made honest.
Appear to be no more than bits.
Given time, and watered
They become fruit for generations
It is my honor to announce this most recent posting. My short- “Stones” has been published on the Black Girl Dangerous site. Many thanks to the staff over there. It is humbling to be acknowledged. Please comment and share this piece of my he(ART)
Golgotha is no physical location
. . . is no moral lesson to be posited to the willing and the listening.
Jesus was blood
and packeged for voyage
carried on slaveships along with 5 million hearts in holding
no blood- not one drop was spilled as they left the ivory coast
and we drank
that the unrest in our spirits
At the dock
White men, observing our supposed stupor
demanded what remained of our bloated bellies move out of his vessels
and onto auction blocks no bigger than the spirits of beasts.
what can be found here ain’t salvation
what dignity can be had in enslavement?
what humanity in de-humanizing?
what song in the chorus of screaming?
chains. . .
made legacy songs.
formed dark notes
with sinister organs
and we sang gospel roused of this filth.
it can only be seen as the grace of energies . . .
that we held some part of our spirit indigenous