Severed Fingers & Heavy Bags
With all the bags you have,
with everything that weighs you down,
why would you burden yourself with someone else's?
Why are you carrying the hate of someone who never crossed you
for a friend who let it go a handful of blue moons ago?
You must be so tired.
That bag you carry is like a black hole
but infinitely hallow.
Let it go!
How do you touch any one with those calloused hands...
and enjoy it?
The weight of bag straps have elongated your fingers making it easier for you to point the blame
fueled by the half truth
completely skewed perception
of what you think happened.
Till the gravity of those bags severed your finger tips.
You hold on to those bags even though its pointless.
I don't know you
or care enough about you to have this conversation face to face
but I hope this speech will reach someone I do care about
and don't know they're endanger of severed finger tips.
will get the
Note: This was written a while back after reading someones FaceBook post (I think). Someone was hating on someone by proxy.
Dear Sister of the World,
Dear Daughter of the Night,
Dear Mother of Man,
Dear Miss Stolen,
Dear Miss Understood,
Dear Miss Most Appropriated & Overlooked.
Dear brilliant beautiful woman with the Afro that can eclipse the sun.
You whose locs defy convention and will only be tamed under their own terms.
You are a rainbow of colors extending from the most magnificent cloud.
I see those follicles dancing from your beautiful black,
beautiful white scalp.
They cork screw,
they roller coaster across your glory into an untouchable crown.
Your hair looks like a freeze frame of a most exquisite explosion.
I see you princess.
I see you queen.
What I can't see is the the stage.
Can you sit down,
or maybe we can switch seats?
Poems, Haiku and rough drafts that probably won't get much stage time.