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.
NESTED
My gratitude for your kindness was never expressed
For I was too young to be grateful
Too young to care, understand, or appreciate
You blessed three little girls of color
And valued their mother, a loyal worker for years
raíces
madre estas raíces no se pegan a nada
madre tu angustia no se quita con nada
Too LOUD
I spoke loud with my red dress on,
The one that had the split on the sides.
Yeah, that one.
Freedom
Basic freedom was denied
And daily I cried.
Labeled as the “weaker sex”
Taunted mercilessly. My soul grew vex.
Wretched. Worthless
An imbecile. Senseless.
Bra-less
I look up with my head high
Shoulders back
And a smile on my lips
Unafraid
Unashamed
Free
Un/furled
My doormmates whispered about “the lesbian book”. When I told my church youth group my mother had transferred me to an all girls boarding school the elder boys regaled everyone with tales about the lesbians there who used bottles as substitute dildos.
Fam Constellation - Me Kali
Everyone has to thrive in order for the system itself to thrive, every display of hate is only an unexpressed need to feel valid.
Generation Cry
Taitu Kai Goodwin. Taitu. Daughter of the Soil. Antigua Girls’ High School Alumna. Former Ambassador’s daughter. Miss Anguilla. Someone I knew. Taitu.
Ouroboros
Through all layers and fits it slithered
Though still I scrambled to look decent
Open Secrets
Since I last saw you I’ve been thinking. Thinking about you. Thinking about us, about home, about those kids whose journey mirrors yours and mine, A journey walking with fear.
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.
Isolation
I am comfortable in my own skin…
I Am Woman.
I know my rights.
I know my strengths.
I know my history.
Shedding- the mitoXANDRIA
In order for any woman to grow she must shed every mindset that doesn’t fertilise her purpose…
A Jamaican Ode to the Spring Equinox
We don’t have spring,
summer, autumn, winter.
We live in green days
that throb with the steel-pan
rhythm of rain on zinc roofs
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.