Past scars
THE UGLY BLACK WOMAN
Her skin so dark
Like the ground, we walk upon
Her hair so wild and strong
Almost holding its own personality
Her eyes brown and wide
Carrying her curiosity
Her pride pushed down and trampled on,
Her smile so bright
Hiding away a thousand generations
Of pain and tears
And her heart cries a silent song
A song of an ugly black woman
A name brought about
Not by the way she acts
Not by the way she talks
Not by the way she walks
But by the color of her skin
An ugly black woman
But in my books
A beauty that holds her own!
CHAINS
It would have been better
If the chains around my neck were gold
So that way I would know that I am at least worth more
Than a stray dog outside; stripped raw of pride
Withering in the cold basement.
My flesh has started connecting to the ground to drop me on
My brain has taken membership in the cold atmosphere
And my hands are strong but my knees are far too ease
Body shaking and weak to the touch of metal
Bare is my back but stripped with a tattoo of bamboo whip
My Hair has grown wild and course
My skin rough and hard but my eyes oh my eyes still fight!
WORDS
Sticks and stones may break my bones
But it’s the words you say
That breaks me down the most
Sometimes I wonder if you like watching me bleed
Lying there on the concrete floor
Back against the wall
Fighting and fighting for breath
So I ask again, do you like to watch me bleed
My anger has taken root like the weeds outside
Falling deeper and deeper
Words that kill
Words that heal
And words, you like, to say, to me.
I WAS BORN THIS WAY
I might be broken in your eyes
But to me, I Was Born This Way
I was born to Be this way
My wings might not fly now
But I sure will one day
I might not be your favorite color
But you will need me one day
My eyes might not shine the same way yours do
But they shine all the same
My voice might be as loud as yours
But I will never stop singing
I was born this way
So don’t you dare judge me
Because we were born differently
Just like you, I was born this way.
FLAWS
Babies are born in a world of colors
Raised to BE people of color
Looking at another and only seeing the difference
Looking at another and only seeing color;
The height,
The background,
The flaws!!
Looking in the mirror
I begin to see it too
Constantly thinking to myself; why me?
Exactly! Why you
Because you are beautiful
To only those meant to treasure you.
AWAKE
July 1993
The day I opened my eyes
So confused about the shapes,
Sizes, colors, and voices
I cried
As the years went by I fell asleep
I was so deep in sleep
I only notice I was dreaming
Lying flat on the concrete
The cold feel creeping in
My voice numb from not speaking
And my hand weak from not training
Training to fight
Fighting for my right to dream
My right to make those dreams comes true
Cold, I face the ground awake
MR CRAYON
Hello Mr. Crayon how long has it been
Sitting there on the Shelf
Dusty and old
“I have grown tired and weary,
I tend to ask why I wasn’t born pink, blue or gray
I lack a purpose on this wooden Shelf
Slowly being eaten away by termites and other bugs
I grow mold and waste away
Put aside from day one
Just waiting for the day you realized just how important I am
Just like all the painters before you
You will soon see just how important
This rusty old brown crayon is.”
THE THINGS I FEAR
I am the girl that used to run
As if I were running a marathon
I would ride through time and space
Running and running
Always looking back from where I started
Just to make sure I’ve run far enough to take a break
I ran for days, weeks and months even
Before stopping to catch my breath
Never stopping to look at the sunset
Never stopping to catch a snowflake in winter
Never stopping to see how the rainbow forms after the rain fall's
Never stopping to see if what I was running from
Had ever stopped chasing me
And if not, if I was strong enough to fight
Or at least try
I just kept on running.
MINE
The rain falls around me
In this world of black and white
And I find it hard to breathe
I gaze beyond myself
To the empty spaces around me
I try to fill the emptiness
But the colors fail to spread
I remain a single body in the world
Where I do not exist
But the world seems to exist around me
The only real thing I have is my imagination
An imagination that took what seems to be
An eternity to build
An imagination where black, white or color
Do not seem to matter
Where I can breathe in sync
With the rest of the world
Where my problems don't amount to anything
A world with unity and belonging
A world that’s mine.
GIRL IN A SUNSET PURPLE DRESS
I see a little girl in a sunset purple dress
Dancing in the rain like it’s her birthday
She has cuts and bruises on her feet and legs
Wounds and scars on her face and arms
And stories that go with every one of them
It takes forever to wash away the dirt from her skin
What I originally thought to be a tan
Through the Mist I see her eyes shining like the sun
And a smile white as snow
She must have gone through a lot of pain to smile like that
What is the name of this girl in the sunset purple dress?
Because to me, she’s got a heart of a warrior.
