Originally written after reading Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston, but I performed a different version of it at Isang Mahal open mic.
sitting on the curb clouds hovered with greed,
she lowered her head contemplating her life in the last few weeks
revising mistakes, forging in takes of air
coz her world is closing in, stifling her face
with regrets and nostalgic tears flowing down from brown eyes
to high cheeks and luscious lips
rose petals plucked from heaven and placed on her mocha-brown complexion
filled with remorse, she got up and walked away from this corner
where life had been better for her to love and give her heart away
completely, though lost her soul, she held his memory close
warming up her shoulders from the cold
now that his presense is gone forever, no
refusing to live life cornered inside a clear bottle
with empty contents but with a red label with big bold letters stating her name
from the factory where they make twins of every other person with colored skin
to spot the dark ones in the sea of white faces
press them against the wall and paint them like god made man in his own image
and so she moves toward that frozen image of the horizon
fueling empty promises to fire her false emotions that make her lips quiver
her hips sway and her breasts bounce and each ounce of her dark blood
is weighed against the actions people project her of committing
false preconceived notions of women of color
The Writer as his own Space Station
18 years ago
0 comments:
Post a Comment