Seasons
Marcel opened her eyes slowly. She blinked rapidly, inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. She was alive. She was honestly surprised to be awake, yet again.
Heavy
It was then that I really saw the exodus. I remember the mattresses- some folded to accommodate another- others splayed on the sides of trucks and vans. I remember the strained faces of a people who were trying to get to a destination some of which were unknown.
Passing Through
It was not until my third affair (the wrench in my relationship with Despair), that I began souveniring. In some ways the habit snuck up on me and in some ways it did not. In some ways it was entirely haphazard, wild and almost beyond my control. In some ways, I was totally in control
Memory Games
Yuh wake up screaming, parched lips bitter from the tail-end of another nightmare…
Belonging To Barbuda
Sally: You bring me here to ask foolish questions like that? You think anybody take time to tell enslaved people when and where they born? Many of us didn’t even know who bring us into this world, but not my children. I made sure that they grew up with me and that they knew their father.
Body Count
Because to me, it means nothing; it’s just a number
It gives me no validation nor brings me shame
Forgiveness
As Shea sat in the pew listening to Father Lewis preach about forgiveness, her mind wandered back to the trial. Fr. Lewis was getting into the throes of the sermon and showed no signs of letting up any time soon. She allowed her thoughts to drift.
Ouroboros
Through all layers and fits it slithered
Though still I scrambled to look decent
The Weight of my Feminity
Heavy is the weight of my femininity,
But a weight I will bare until a change has come
Praying for her Nádleehi
She wanted the baby to be okay. Slowly the vision started and she knew, she knew the way that mothers’ know. She knew that this was her child, even though the person in her vision was not a baby, not even a small child, she knew that this was her baby and yes her child was beautiful.
To the men in my area
I’m tired of writing about this
I’m tired of writing this
I’m tired of being handed material
these burdens that I carry
everything destroyed in reverence of a new god, an unfamiliar god, they called him money. this god had power unlike any my people knew before, and to how my grandfather told it - it demanded servitude, offerings, and sacrifice like no other. It was an angry god.
I Am Woman.
I know my rights.
I know my strengths.
I know my history.
Intersections of fate
Reyna was 21, but looked and to some extent felt 16; like she hadn’t matured a day beyond the age she discovered the “oddness,” she sensed about herself, had a name.
Becoming Rage
Tantie Mary say that since me feel me a big woman now, to gwan and don’t comeback. The words still ring in my head three weeks later. My last image of Hibiscus Road featured the woman who raised me.
A Church Girl Gone Rogue
You said inside
I said no way
You said dolls
I said trucks.
Thriving
i flourish
like bougainvillea
that rustles in the breeze
outside my window
pink + plentiful
A SONG BY THE BEACH
The ocean quivers
Its heart is warm now
Its aim is as swift, and precise as a tall bird
NOT TO HAVE
A nation to be built
A noble lion as the head
And a graceful lioness
THISTLE
Your nose need not be pinched
For you were made with straight lines
Your beauty is standard