I promise, if only myself, that I will gather all of these thoughts, prayers, poems and photos and put them in a little book and call it my first published poetry collection. I promise.
Right now I’ve been feeling shorter poems. Really little ones that say big things and nothing at all at once. Let’s call this series:
I wrote this for her, whoever she is.
I hope she reads them, I pray she does…
and breathes out
more than breath
more breath than she has ever had to
Slowly breathing out
all of what little life her weak hands can hold onto.
And i will go where you all asked me not to.
And i will run there.
And i will get there without the burden of your jealousies
And i will go there without the intention of leaving legacies and memories-
Irreverently i heave a painful history off of my back.
When i reach my Gethsemane
i will try not to drown in the tears that i have held back
Discrepancy is key.
And i will finally arrive at that place that you knew i didn’t know that i was meant to be
And i will just be.
And i will selfishly flourish into it all, into all of me.
-For her confidence.
i am you
i am you
i am you
i am used to calling on your name
and not receiving an answer so i have decided
to answer myself
i am you.
i am all that you are not
And i will carry both of our burdens on my back
until it breaks
and you are forced to finally prioritise and pronounce my name
and give me back what i gave
when i was you.
And in that frame,
They found a strength they truly couldn’t source
And it was yours,
All the while,
-For my silhouette women.
whispers furtherly softened as though aware that
they might well shatter this stereotype.
such a precarious factor to change since the variables might
not even matter;
you are mute anyway.
you were always mute.
– black and quiet.
Stop wanting to be greater than she who came before you.
Greatness is not for you.
It is not for us
It is up to us, whose menial triumphs have elevated the world, to stare each other into silence.
Voices too powerful to join together in celebration.
Can you imagine how the world would suffer
should our voices harmonise, recognise our victory?
The foundations our experience created would
And fall in an ironic circle
letting us get the blame
for what more we have created.
Dangerous is the eye that sees what generations previous have claimed blind to, have denied.
you thoroughly emptied yourself
of all of you
to make room
and accommodate for what is to be all of him
only to find
that none of him will ever be able to fill you
because none of him is enough
you are enough
and now what is left of you caves into your
nearly empty void
your new home
and you only whisper your regrets
because you are not allowed to shout them
because noone guts the earth of her seeds and expects to be impressed with the fruit she cannot produce.