Black women’s faces are so expressive because we have
always been perceived to be in the position of servants
meant to bow politely
and with aggressive humility
enjoy giving service to the man or woman above us
She’s not sassy because she wants to be
but because she has to be.
Because the sheer absurdity of other people’s realities encroaching on her ability to live freely necessitates comment even if she is not allowed to speak.
–A. Long
my daddy’s name was john henry
my moms name was polly ann
he never sold crack
but was a hard workin man who laid track in the subways
bent back like his people
and when he died from all that
he gave ma his legendary hammer
she had a slammer that was mean
and took no shit from men, white brown or black
weary, she
me and your daddy built this city
so you wouldn’t have to
now take this hammer
and show’ em what you can do
i wrote a lil diddy
dedicated to daddy’s nickname
that i got tattooed
when i was 22
it went like this: i am to soar, evermore, like the eagle above the clouds do
then i wrapped my skin in wings so i’d always feel free, got a job and two degrees to support a writing habit, see
the letter always bled for her for her eyes (brown as those old bottles in the medicine cabinet) bleeding words like teardrops yet without spilling onto the green tile floor those words always pure only staining the paper glossy black ink blood like muslin stuck to an old wound those words always strong yet blurred, obscure words only a scholar would find obscene
happy are those who die because they have returned to those first crumbs of dirt that fed us to that first hole to that soft black and smell of coal
-Pablo Picasso
breathe easy youngling. we know you bury yourself in characters, trying to recreate your own story
a hero noir as dark as you
they don’t know the night you’ve faced at such an age.
the lil and lonely homey
hiding behind his mask while the city he loves screams and shoots and beats him down
the quiet one with crossed wires and bloody sneaks
nose deep in a book
when we all know dark side boys don’t read
they’re too black
of heart
to fantasize about anything other than their own dry ass reality
we see you future.
you are valid
every time you
tell your daughter
you yell at her
out of love
you teach her to confuse
anger with kindness
which seems like a good idea
till she grows up to
trust men who hurt her
cause they look so much
like you
–Excerpt of Milk and Honey– Rupi Kaur
why she whine down
break him beauty
create boundless space
so they ask how she move
how they float roun’
runnin’ with one body
flowin’ into each motion
as fast as rhythmically possible
bruk it
The Poetry Corner 