FREE.

Free just may be my favorite word. I found the following on my desk when I was cleaning up. and at the top it read: FREE. All caps. Period. And it is at the root of everything I write. Your freedom and mine. Tell me what you think.

It is said that definitions belong to the definers
but when no one involved knows who they are in the first place,
all the words end up muddled
into a sea of oxymoronic phrases
and the only thing you can't confuse,
is the truth

that to be touched, is to be emotionally affected

that my greatest moment of weakness
and my most profound moment of strength
would collide at full speed
and though my vehicle is damaged
I would appear to emerge unscathed
that another being could rob me of agency
I never knew I had
that an act so motivated by the power of another of another
could empower me
that I will always remember the moment
I paid someone else to help me forget

to be touched, is to have come into contact with

to lay a hand upon.
and who would think,
that bare hands
could reach a heart, a home, a soul, so deeply
and that something so dirty
could be purely- physical
that the only evidence it left behind
is etched in the front of my cerebral cortex
and something I swore would never happen again,
has attached itself to every facet of my life
and what always seemed so black and white
was only grey matter
what seemed so consequential
I had the power to make Not. Matter.
But no matter what I did
I couldn't make it better
because when it couldn't get any worse,
it encouraged my best.

to be touched, is to be moved

I was taken from a place of sanity
diagnosed with a condition
and the cause of my current state,
my conditioner if you will,
was by definition-
supposed to improve the quality of some other material
for everything he broke,
I gained the power to fix
and where he left me bare, I had access
to reach inward to repair...
all without leaving another scar
It appears God only works in the strangest of ways.
for a moment that stopped so much of my life...
it did just that.
stopped.so.much.of.my.life.
but the truth that sets this free
is that for all that it stopped,
it allowed me to go on
just never in the same way
and when things don't remain the same,
but the change is good
we call it progress
we can change the way we battle
but we can't control the test
and how crazy is it that
the most dehumanizing of all tragedies
has strengthened in me,
the most human of all emotions:
LOVE.
and I've never found discomfort in insanity,
because genius, requires it
it is said that definitions belong to the definers
perhaps only until they are taken by the defined
and the only thing left upon which to rely...

is the truth.

(Wrote this sometime in 2009)

on love.

love is patient.

you held my hand as we waited
staring at a busy intersection,
the seconds ticking down on the crosswalk,
soon time would stop,
the cars would stand motionless,
and it would be our time.
distracted by the world surrounding us,
the grip you had on my palm
came as a surprise,
the only proof i had you were even there,
was the impression you left
across my skin
staring at this extremity,
i saw a long life,
and the red rings you left,
the throbbing from blood rushing to my fingertips,
put you in it-
if only for the moment we waited to cross.

love is kind.

the moment my perception went from yellow to red,
i felt it was time to let go,
even if i didn't feel safe,
i was accustomed to going alone,
assured that all i'd have left after these 30 seconds
was another 30 to walk on without you.
my sunshine would set,
and i'd navigate the darkness,
with two free hands.
having both allowed me to feel more.
but you help tighter,
and the impression you left on me,
sunk far deeper than the flesh.
for so long i felt i was stronger
for walking with two free hands,
when i finally realized that if I held yours,
i had three....
and i could conquer anything
that threatened my journey.
and with my new found vision,
i could see that I didn't have to run alone,
if we could walk together.
the world would have to wait for us.

love, is not self seeking.

we reached the other side of the street,
stronger than when our journey started,
still giving bits of ourselves
to hold on to our grasp,
I found that the support I got from our union,
the fist we formed,
if kept together could fight off any threat,
I offered my wrist
so we'd be more flexible,
my forearm so we'd be able to hit harder,
my elbow so we could lift each other up,
and my shoulder so we could hold each other.
all i ever hoped was that neither of us would let go.

love does not envy.

my desires included your happiness
and the more power i saw in us,
the more of you i wanted.
i began to fear walking alone
in the shadow of the power of our footsteps.
there is no love in fear.
i wanted from you
what only time could give
i saw different parts of the world
take your eyes,
grab at your ears,
possess your mind,
and suddenly-
your hand just didn't seem enough,
so focused on
holding one of your hands on our journey,
i never noticed
you used your other to hand me your heart.

love does not delight in evil.

we are imperfect
and often fail to see,
how wanting so badly to keep walking
hand in hand,
can hurt us.
instead of walking around adversity together,
fear sent us running in opposite directions.
we pulled each other toward misery
when our vision was to walk all along.
if i was looking with my heart,
i'd give you my hand willingly,
feel with one,
allow a part of me to be missing,
before i'd ever cause you any pain

love is enduring.

as we continue our walk,
we face insurmountable odds,
but what i will always appreciate,
is that after every obstacle,
after every block,
at each intersection,
i look toward our journey,
past the mountains and mole hills,
glance down at our hands
see past the scratches and bruises,
and see LOVE in their determination
to hold on.
like the fingerprints you left on me,
without once breaking my skin,

love, always protects.

in the past,
when life was too much
and I felt I could no longer give enough,
i believed fear kept me going.
too scared to end it all,
too wracked with guilt to disappear,
cowardice kept me alive.
and as i saw our love gasp for air,
i credited the fear of being alone
with fighting to save it.
but fear was not my saviour...
it did not drive me.
love, kept me.
love, kept us.

it. never. fails.

------------------
author's note: this piece was written as a companion to/extension of "on pain." so much has happened since that weekend but, in short... we're still holding hands.

Sowy

Ok I've been writing like a mad woman but I've been loving it... and as a writer I have the moments where what I write needs to be released right away- and then some moments where it just ain't ready. Then there's this issue of October. I'm tryin to feature at this spot and some shit I been writing, I don't want to hit anyone's ears until that night!!

Keeping the goodies from you is TORTURE. But I have promised sooo much and not delivered in over a week. I also have contracted Swine Flu in London so that may give you some indication of the hold up but shit... If I must be in bed- let it be with pen in hand.

xx

any way the wind blows...

did an exercise where I built a piece around the first line I came up with... helps ease a lot of writer's block for me because everyday I come up with many bits and pieces, but an entire work takes a few days. unless it just comes... that's amazing to watch and that could take a couple hours.

she's barely tall enough to meet your shoulders
it's how you know she has your back
and some how her small frame
manages to play home to a heart
bigger than your emotions can imagine
so you question her authenticity
she's only human though, so
instead of trying to determine your capacity
for all of her love
she keeps swaying the leaves
so you know the wind blows
not quite able to think critically
you criticize her efforts,
chastise her tropical storm for being too much
while she huffs and she puffs
till she turns herself blue
tryna prove to you
some shit you don't have the ability to understand.
convinced that you just needed to see
it's tremendous size and capability
and miraculously you'd agree
she was what you needed all along
and the powerful gusts of wind
born of her deep breathing
hit you with force you never seen
she was a category three
and you kept looking back
so she kept building speed
fearful of actually getting the love you need
you took refuge under
a dilapidated covering
one that had been hovering around your weakness
because it looked familiar
and now the both of you are exposed
and even with two hearts and two souls
you couldn't understand her role
because you don't know love enough
you prefer to keep things rough
so you remain untouched
push her hundreds of miles away, develop mistrust,
and when shes blown to bust,
- all is quiet on your front
no one has your back,
and you realize she was always what you wanted.
by then it'll be too late,
the damage too great
her heart and lungs have forgotten what love was, what was such,
an exhausting experience
and now you're addicted
no longer conflicted
because instead of trusting the leaves
you had to leave to see
that somehow many fish
could still make an empty sea
and
every time you hear the rattling of leaves
you think that maybe she
is back to prove her love
and it will be many hurricane seasons before you realize...
it's your turn to blow.

capiche.

one of my latest and most favorite pieces. sometimes you write shit and you make yourself pause cause penning it was an out of body experience. well that's what happened here. hard to look at yourself so openly and honestly. hope you enjoy.

He doesn't understand.

He's a smart man, but-
he doesn't understand

doesn't understand, can't comprehend

Why I want him to be my man.

How do I convince him that he can?

That he's capable, more than able-

to satisfy what I desire.

He's a man with vision

but can't see the scars across my chest,

where a rapist grabbed my breasts

where I let men rest

who could care less
 about. me.

he's a brilliant man, but he can't understand

how ignoring my calls

makes me feel small

like less than,

not equal to,

not me and you-

he's a diligent man,

but he never researched me

never looked me up beyond the maybelline

I may be lean, but my heart. is. heavy.

I am the definition of forgotten

he remembers my bed, remembers my head

but it slips his mind to see if I'm okay

He doesn't see how taking me out once a week

makes me feel disposable

late nights he recycles me

uses me over and over to reach his peak

and gets so high

he can't see the mountain on his shoulders breaking me

his friends know everything about him
--but they don't know me

which leads me to believe

that he doesn't think I am about him.

around him can't surround him.

with anything. but. my. body.

and he's an intelligent man

but he can't read my biography

he doesn't know I have a history

of dealing with men who only appreciate me

after. 3 am.

I have a father and I am ashamed

to tell him that his daughter

has let a man depress her- 
neglect her- 
forget. her.

not remember to respect her.

i am just a useful tool.

a screwdriver.

your screw drives her-- to make better mistakes.

He's a smart man

but he refuses to see

how his behavior reflects SHE--
his daughter,

the girl who calls him father.

he's a wise man

but too shallow to see

how deep his behavior reaches.

one day a man will leave her beaten. cheated.

treated like meat and-

he'll disconnect the pieces

of our broken hearts

he won't see it. won't see him.

himself in the selfish bastard

who broke his baby's heart.

you know where it ends,

but I know where it starts

my dad broke my heart years before it beat

and her dad would break mine before she'd ever speak.

and she's a smart girl but,

when it comes to he- she doesn't think

doesn't weep, doesn't see...
how she repeats

like a scratched cd
before giving up and skipping to the next song...
And how many tracks will I leave behind
Before someone worthy finds me
And stops. Pressing. Play.
Ejects the mistakes my father made
Fasts forward to what will be his daughter’s pain
If only those visits to the gym
Made you strong enough to eradicate
The behaviors that made you this way.
And after all this time I don’t see results,
Don’t have a membership,
I just remember shit
Like the many times and the many things
You put before getting to know me
Not the bottom half,
But the whole me,
How Everclear reality is now,
It still stings going down
And it’s a hard pill to swallow,
But I’m a tough act to follow
And I almost dare you to find
A woman whose heart is as big as mine
Who is as willing to take the time
To deal with your emotional unavailability
You think I want to be before anything
I just don’t want to be after everything
Why can’t we just be... together
My mama used to say
If you’re too ashamed to introduce him to me
He’s not fit to be a part of your life
And I wish she wasn’t right
But when she asks about you, I lie,
I try, to deny that just like her I lie
Night after night in denial
Telling myself in time
Daddy will come home
And just like me
She wonders why
Every man in her life seems to be a failure,
To fail her,
To nail her to a cross roads
Somewhere in between love and giving up
Between giving her all and not giving a fuck
And I’m my father’s daughter
So if there is one thing I can understand,
I can understand, I do comprehend
That if he can’t hear me scream,
Then maybe it’s time to whisper
To ordain that the pain that encompasses me
Will miss her
My daughter
Who WILL have a loving father whose past won’t come back to haunt her
Who WILL be nothing like her mother,
Who WILL be far stronger
I won’t worry about her...
She will be ok.......
I know cause my mother ordained the same.

an ode to the district.

i've lived in DC for over 4 years now and if there is one thing i can say about this place, it is that for it to be so small, it is packed with some of the most beautiful history i have ever studied. i hope that my dc natives and transplants alike can appreciate this work and i hope it is an appropriate expression of the power that lies within these 8 wards. In honor of Emancipation Day I presented this to community partners at OneDC.

The only thing constant in the world,
Is change.
That’s why today I take life as it comes.

In the District of competition,
Where there isn’t always clear vision,
We rely on superstition
To explain the broken reflection of ourselves
Confused because our worlds don’t mirror
The presidential picture
And if you happen to be the Natasha
Whose last name ain’t Obama
You may begin to wonder if you’re in the frame at all
Constantly left to fend(ty) for herself
This poor little DC girl
Has had to forward her mail every year of her life
May your mayor make her a priority
Realize she’s the majority,
Skip the presidential tea parties,
To save the girl stuck in a rut between Good hope, and Kings dreams.
Writing letters from a Birmingham jail, in her cell on Alabama avenue.
If only he could see what D sees,
That behind Florida’s palm trees,
Beside the capitol lettering,
There are lower cases of affordable housing
Where we forgot that we,
Were supposed to be,
Lifting up our hearts.
If we could see what D sees,
Fight against the patriarchy,
Count the number of students at Gonzaga high
With sursum corda residency.
Watch the faces on the 90 change 180 degrees
Cause those on the S2 said FU,
The Hill’s in Southeast
And I signed my lease
And the landlord said it wouldn’t be that bad
Cause all the culture that it used to have
Fits nice and compact
Into Sundays farmer’s market.
Where Monday’s beggar plays jazz.
If only we could see what D sees….
That you street, ben’s chili and the naacp
Used to belong to her
But the pronoun has attached itself to someone else
And now there’s a bistro where she used to shoot free throws
A café where she danced ballet
And that low class liquor store is no more
It’s a wine bar now.
And now we have two memorials along the corridor
Both reminders of a civil war
That left black faces to be remembered
So long as we don’t forget,
our number of completion is eight
and the freed slaves who paved way,
are rolling in their graves today
cause the noise created by the freeway and suitland parkway
keeps them up at night
listening to others make plans to decimate
the community they purposely neglected in the first place
But if only they could see what D sees
That she is capable of creating wizardry
She is the same D, that allowed Nannie Helen B
Suburban Gardens, and H.D.
To coexist peacefully
The same D that gave Amtrak Ivy city
And though she don’t get much in return…
she returns some of the greatest black leaders of our time.
The history that D has seen,
Will always triumph over the misery
That attacks her self esteem.
It is freedom that wipes her clean.
The only thing, constant in our world is change.
And the only way to understand our future
Is to recognize our past
If we could see what D sees,
We’d hold on dearly to our city.
In the name of Anna J. Cooper
And William Birney,
I pray that one day we can all see,
What D sees.

inches.

at night i watch you sleep
and to my surprise, when you open your eyes,
i still don't break my stare.
i'm here, you're there, and the years between us
are now just inches of heavy breathing
i listen to you speaking
each breath has me remembering
in our pasts i saw a future and
i adore you so confidently
i often struggle with what to do between
respirations.
you are my reparation
everything i get back from years of degradation
unappreciation, misappropriation of love.
now I am free.
to gaze at the man God made me for
the one God saved me for
i keep imagining
a different way to tell you i love you
but none of the words ever seem to be enough...
the I can't describe who I was when we met
and who i'll be when we separate long enough to go on to our next lives.
the you doesn't begin to reflect the many faces i've grown accustomed to
despite all the things we've been through,
the one i remember best is your smile.
and love...
love will never be enough cause it'll always be between us
and i won't separate our destiny
your strides are so big because you walked across galaxies to get to me
you fill my cup- you're only bringing out the best in me
and when i stretch across jupiter to hold your hand
i'm only showing my flexibility
my ability
to deal with irregularity
knowing if i were situated similarly
you'd be right there with me
illuminating my celestial body
hop scotching across coma berenices
-you carry my burdens and place them among the stars
my constellation prize
you reward me for just being here
i was Ayyub in my past life
and light years later
i finally understand
that despite my beginning
i shall enjoy my end
and appreciate the faith you restored it with
at night you watch me sleep...
and to my surprise when I open my eyes
you still don't break your stare...
you're there, i'm here
and the light years between us
are now just inches.of.heavy.breathing

word play

I don't have a way with words
but if I could have my way with words,
I'd make sure that you and I are never in between Q and T
always connected to you and me
forever on opposite ends of unity
so we can bring together what seems to be
the most opposite of similarities
when two eyes see you and I they look quizzically
it took the third eye in you to see, the individual in me
the you and I in revolutionary,
the you in us
the you and me in what they presume to be...
run of the mill, when we’re one in a mill
... the you, me, and us in my muse
the you in Euterpe, the I in Calliope
no you no me in tragedy…
takes two eyes from two minds to inspire
another shade of Blue,
another word for you,
another place for me
another stage for us
and I don’t have a way with words
but if I could have my way with words…
I’d make forever modify your happiness,
Restructure your sentence
So you don’t serve life
In this homophobic, germaphobic, lovaphobic cell,
And strike every passive voice that emits
From the fruit of your lips
Cause Miss, the English language, would be remiss
Without you….
Without 21, there can be no 22,
And an alphabet from A to T
Don’t make no damn sense to me….
And I don’t have a way with words
But if I could have my way with words
I’d use them as a sword to protect your smile,
Cause I see me in it…
I’d sow into our music,
Cause I see us in it…
I’d puff an L, to change the world, word?
Cause I see must in it
I’d get drowsy imagining the possibility in why…
Takes a third eye to see two G’s
Which is why there’s only one in judgment
And I don’t have a way with words,
But if I had my way with words I’d tell you…
Between you and I… no evol,
I love you…
Love.
No drums. No dreds. No incense.
No nappy ass beard. No talking like I’m weird.
This comes from my innocence…
Addressed to your inner sense
Wish this had a transcript
Cause I don’t have a way with words
But if I could have my way with words
I’d just say…
"Sista, you’ve been on- my- mind
Sista we’re two of a kind
So sister, I’m keeping my eyes on you...."