I am more shapely than you
That's what my sis-star said
But what does that even mean?
And why does her truth have me feeling messed up in my head?
Unsure but certain that something was wrong with me
I decided to do a little digging to see what I could see
This root of self-criticism was planted deep inside of me
Voices of my past that still taunted me
"Bag of bones"
"Tiny winey, wine your bum bum"
"Skin and bones"
"Put some meat on your skin and bones"
Little do they know that I ate a lot
But the weight never stayed at home
It cheated on me with all the other black girls I've known
Leaving me flat chested with no assets
But lots of emotions
A well proportioned
For Kevin, my incarcerated student.
"This shit is crazy!"
That's what Kev said
Stuck in ACS' custody and trapped in his own head
Slipping and tripping over invisible lines
Longing to be free from the prison of his mind.
Will you call him by his name?
Like a new birthright from heaven
Will you erase his mistakes and give him passion for his pain?
Will you pray for his peace?
Will you give him a pen and notebook when he is released?
Will you teach him how to heal?
Will you give him forgiveness along with his court deal?
Freedom please free Kevin!!!
The mind's eye is deeply awake
Always looking for clocks and schedules
Posted like photos on a fridge
Images of friends and lovers waving goodbye
And shaking hands
Feeling two types of sadness
That a hundred letters written in the 9th grade could not hold
The great mystery is an unfinished story
Filled with careless whispers about people that I know
Walking in the woods
Looking for another way of life
Tired of living a double life
Wiping blood, sweat and tears away
Crawling on all fours near the ocean with moody weather
Listening to the thunder before the rain
Falling asleep while talking to the moon
Waking up in your childhood bedroom with scar tissue
From all night conversations
That reminded you that you are coming of age in the wrong time
with empty pages looking for someone to listen.
I witnessed the birthing of an old soul inside of the courtroom today
His character testified about his ability to contain himself
I stood there in my gray suit and spoke about his anger management
It was needed in that white space where thinkers
Spoke loudly while writing on blank pages with black ink
Face painting a movie star into existence
With fan clubs who will worship a Black Mona Lisa with a Picasso Face
A cacophony signaling that the last judgment was coming
As we played the counting game
We acknowledged that his exit will not be the same
As his entrance into the knockout game
Like the screams before the refrain
Could not see our thoughts
She would not feel our pain
Like slaves praying on slave ships for their freedom from America.