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You have inspired me
With your sweet nature Smooth words and intense desire For me. You make me want to Sleep, dream, live, breath in you. Which is why you have me Hands down, No questions asked, Without limitations, Nothing, not one damn thing, Standing in your way. You make me want to say Yes Definitely Of course Anything Cause you got me like that Written, drawn, marked, shaped, sculpted Created, imagined, realized Specifically for you and only you.
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When I think of everything that my mother endured
To desegregate a public restroom Or the horrors heaped on my fathers For attempting to level an everybody field; When I think of what my uncles bore Just to sit in an equal school desk And all the pain my aunts withstood To gain the respect of a titled name; When I think of the fact that Someone spit on nine from Arkansas and offered death to a little Bridges When I think of the day to day violations and violence That people still living are asked to bury deep inside them --suck it up—and walk beside their tormentor, Abuser, murderer—attempted but failed; When I think of the shameful past that people Black like me Traveled through with the courage to Live and eat and breathe next to their nemesis. I can’t help but imagine What it must be like for them. What must it be like to know the very Child you shoved in English class In hate of their blackness Sits across from you in a boardroom Reminding you of that senseless violence, The student you 2, 4, 6, 8, And threatened to hang in hate Is now the neighbor who watches out for your house Or the teacher who stands before your child Reminding you of how much you supported Segregation then, segregation now, segregation forever.. What must it be like to ask God to forgive you Because you got caught up in the moment And watched that nigger hang. You got swept up in the crowd And almost hung your own damn nigger A secret that must be cancerous, deadly waiting, inside you. What must it be like to see the world A damn, a-changing Changes that made you willing to kill To keep from happening. Must be why you like to say you were just a child You were hating like the sign of the times. Well, your victims were children too And you can’t take back the damage You gifted to them. What must it be like to be you To live knowing what you did To bury your guilt knowing that you Never had to apologize or right wrongs Cause the laws changed with the expectation That your victim would just get over it, Say thank you and move on. Whew! Thank God you caught a break, that is If you can look in the mirror And not remember—even if no one else saw you-- That you stood right there in the crowd And raised your voice to offer death by Beating, lynching, shooting, burning, beating Cause any nigger who asked to be treated equally Didn’t deserve to live. What must it be like to be you Filled with guilt and shame, Knowing that one day you will pay Societal times or not, child or not You will pay a price for the lives you stole, The hearts you broke, the spirits you crushed. My God What must it be like to be you To know that everything you were willing to do To stop progress Will be the very things on which you will be Judged and sentenced. And the only comfort left for you is the hope No prayer That your judgment comes from a God Whose ability to show mercy Far out-measures the mercy you failed to show. He put His finger on my soul
And called me by a different name Then welcomed me home Because, He said, I believed. He told me His Son Jesus Would call me sister mine And a member of His temple I would be. Of myself I was not For to Him I belonged Because, He said, I believed. He created me from Love And shed Blood to set me free Then gave me Heaven Because I believed. What must I do, I asked my Father To live my life with You To show the world that forever I am Yours? What works should I work Or miracles perform So that those who see me Are seeing You? Child, He began, when will you understand The love that you give I gave to you. In my house you’ll help your sister And lend what your brother needs. Whoever calls I promise You will be there. Don’t you know when I welcomed you You took on all I AM That before you asked you received? I do not need your reasons To give My gifts to you I gave because you believed. You see me.
That's what makes it so easy This falling for you. You look into what makes me ugly And call me beautiful. You laugh at just the right time Because you find me amusing. You enjoy me. My attitude, my bossiness, My tough side, my sexiness. You look at me and smile As if everything you see All that I appear to be All that I am Is all right with you. You look at me Past my fortress strong outside To my soft-for-you center. You ease past all my barriers With just a sweet smile Because you look at me And you see ME A woman of worth And honor and beauty And humor and sensuality. You see me Past my anger at you Past my quick-tempered words Until you look at me And say just the right words To make my mad at you Turn into a hunger for your voice, Your smile, your touch. You look at me And you see ME And the way you see me Makes me feel as if Finally I've met someone Who accepts The less than perfect But always striving Daring woman, hopeful child That makes me, ME. he got me. Again
talkin smooth words and sweet nothins whisperin bout all what makes him different. He be a real man Commitment-bound, forever-sound In the type of love he like to give. He lookin for a woman Just. Like. Me. Independent. Outspoken. Confident. Cause I'm past-written But future-defined. Oh wait and I mustn't forget Can I get a ring size, he says And I, foolishly, let my heart trip Just a little. Yeah, I got all caught up in thinking Is he the one? Please, God, let him be the one. Oh, he was the one all right, Lyin bastard. He turn out to be Just. Like. Them. Men who made—I'd never—promises. I'd never leave you, hurt you, Be like the rest. I'd never promises filled with nothin but lies Singin songs like Why women act like all men the same Cause see, I'm different, he says. Yeah, he mighta walked in different But his ass looked real familiar when he left. I'll admit. he got me. Real. Good. Reminding me that even the smartest woman Can be played a fool. Again. when I tole dat man, I'se pregnant
he run so fast, he fly he say, he wudn't comin' back tole me good luck and good-bye so then I says Betty, what should I do? that so-called friend uh mine says Johnny done been here too. White man say,
Boy, the worlds a-changing we got blacks in white schools we got black men serving justice black women changing rules. On the bus, you sit in the front go to the counter for your chow you can even share our sidewalk why, things're much better now. We've stopped raping black women for our pleasure and our sport. We even shake your hand and let you testify in court. We took you out of cotton fields gave you decent work to do. We even let you vote for us to rule America for you. We gave you money, gave you homes even fed your family. We done right by you, boy We treat you properly. We ruled against the lynchings even protected you from fools who sought to beat and batter you for simply going to school. We financed your poets and heard the black men play even heard the ladies sing and listened to you pray. All these things we did for you and you talk of blacks in jail; you call it white conspiracy against the dying black male. You tell me that on TV all you see is blacks on drugs blacks with guns, committing crimes and lying in their blood. You talk about your people being arrested for being black all because the land was white on the other side of the tracks. You go on about watchful eyes that follow you in the store, wonder about your money source then eye you out the door. You like to blame the white man only looking at the bad but he gave you freedom, rights, your life he gave you all you have. What say you boy now that you know what the white man gave you should be glad he took you from that savage African cave. The black boy sat and thought awhile about now, being free and said, all these you say you gave but who took them from me? Everytime I see him,
I think of Hershey’s and hot chocolate velvet and satin softness sweet, gentle laughter and light lingering kisses. I think of sweet shit like the sound of gentle rain, the crackling of the fireplace and lovers holding hands in the dark talking low over a little Teddy Pendergrass. Everytime I see him, I think about doodling hearts and x’s and o’s and writing some type of love poem about romance and passion and bells ringing in chapel halls. I think of holding him and being held inside his need and the desire to touch his skin with my skin is because I want to be him be a part of him feel him be every part of me cause he got me writing romance novels and Hallmark movie endings and happily ever always every damn time I see him. It's like . . .
My spirit knew you And your voice was a song—lyric smooth Tasha-style Writing me familiar And signing me taken By you even before a thought of you was born. It's like . . . I'm made over in the image of us And what we will become Was expressed in heaven-like and home-at-last words Making me believe that happiness Is a deeper, wider feeling spreading like ocean inside me. It's like . . . I breathe on thoughts of you And on you I can lean, in you I can become The woman, the lover The better half I knew I could always be And for once I know satisfaction. It's like . . . I'm finally saying I'm here A little heart-beaten, and a tad-bit teary-eyed But special delivered to you In the right place, at the right time Cause you were always my destination. And even as I thought God had forgotten me He was simply shaping you to make me complete And building me so that one day I will say It's like . . . My spirit knew you and the rest of me fell in love. Write like your life depends on it!
Write like it’s a scream for help, A last supper, the only salvation in the midst of the deadliest sins. Write like a slave in the race for freedom, like a drowning woman in search of a helping hand. Write like you really, really mean it! Like not writing is the same as taking a final breath, like a dying patient in search of the last possible cure. Write like your dreams depend—no survive-- because of your ability to write a hope, poem a wish, story the most beautiful imagination. Write as if in writing is a miracle, a life saved, a dream undeferred. So write like you mean it, like your life depends on it, like in not writing the eulogy for your funeral has begun. So sista, brotha Write on! Write on! Write on! |
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