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Body Language
By Lysz Flo
My spine rattles and creeks
Aren’t you exhausted ?
Holding everything together has left us
Battered
Misshapen
Tell me-
My limbs will say
How is that even when we tire
You are able to
Still grip
Still hold
Still move
Forward, knowing our neck
wants to look back and
Cave in
My sternum whistles,
My heart booms and says
I’m still here,
Open and ready for you
This pit of my stomach squeaks
Meeps and says despite how I feel - I believe in you
My soft folds in each part of my body say
We are loveable
You
And
I
As we are, as we exist, as we flatten and crinkle,
hang onto these handles
as you take up all of the space you are worthy of
My knees
laugh and toast their glasses
We have so much fun together,
slow down sometimes from running and bending backwards, but don’t lock into us either. Fluidly move through
for we carry so much more than this soul of celebration and woman
So much woman
My body repeats
Through scars
And cuts
And scrapes
So much woman
Aren’t we beautiful?
My Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/lyszflo
My Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/lyszflo
Veins Etched
By J. Swift
Veins Etched
beneath her knuckles
in a calligraphy
of roads beneath skin.
I envied those
with veins
on the backs of their hands
which seemed to be
everyone but me.
mama said it was because
they did a lot of work.
I watched her leave at seven
and come back from swabbing
specimens in the hospital lab
at the other seven
too tired to even eat.
Grandmama scrubbed chitterlings
before New Year’s
for good fortune.
Pink sheets of flesh sloshed
from one side
of the sink to the other,
Foggy water smelling
like soft, raw, insides.
Her veins,
a healing tree growing
to attach her fingers.
They shimmered
as she washed.
All over, veins
become more prominent
than they ever were.
Growing older
thins the skin
the body’s work is in aging
Even the backs
of our hands
are time stamps,
reminders of the imposition
but impermanence
of work.
J. Swift
Jswiftbooks.com
Facebook/Jaquiswiftbooks
Queen All Day Is Who I Be
By LaTonya Merritt
Queen All Day Is Who I Be
You don’t know me, you don’t even know my name.
You heard about what I didn’t do, now let me tell you what I been through.
You wouldn’t last one day in my shoes, you will quite after the first step.
See my my faith I put in GOD, that’s why I walk with such pep.
You don’t know me, Queen all day is who I be
I’ve been mentally, emotionally, verbally and physically abused, all my life, and the pain has caused me Great Depression.
So, I stand before you today with my head held high, because my GOD has turned my burdens into blessings.
I’m not concerned about the negative stories you heard about me, because everybody wants to run and tell that. I just come to share a few of the facts.
You don’t know me, Queen all day is who I be
Now that I’m older, I realize that when I was being rejected from all the things l so desperately wanted to do.
GOD was redirecting me towards blessings so much greater. I just couldn’t handle the truth.
I was dealing with disappointments, stress, confusion, betrayal, depression, fear, heart breaks, abuse, jealously and so much more.
I’m okay today. I don’t know what tomorrow brings, all I know is I’m going to keep spreading my wings.
You don’t know me, Queen all day is who I be
GOD has been fixing the broken pieces in my life.
Preparing me for restoration. So yes, every time I open my eyes, I must give GOD the praise for this victory. That’s were I find my salvation.
You don’t know me, Queen all day is who I be
Greatness is Contagious
By Taomi Ray
How we behave in society really does matter.
Energy is like static electricity. It will cling.
To you and to me, it might even sting.
So Be watchful of what you do and what energy you bring.
Hate is outrageous, serious and sometimes silent.
Hate is contagious. It can jump through generations and raid us.
Fear is never courageous. It speaks with no soul. Fear is contagious; it drives people in droves.
Fear says to bury dreams deep into holes.
Never let them get out.
Fear keeps you in doubt.
There is always another side to the line.
Time tells all on the timeline.
Love is also contagious. It is a beautiful characteristic and it's advantageous.
Love is good and good is also contagious; it rubs off on people and comes from the one who made us.
Good is contagious.
Last but not least, greatness is contagious.
It is the spark in the eye,
it is felt when it walks by.
Great got started with good, it then took what it was given and did all that it could.
It made better.
Greatness turned better into the best.
The best never stopped but became pure greatness and greatness is contagious.
Hang around it, watch it in its developmental stages.
Analyze the phases.
Apply it and pass it on. Greatness is contagious.
Grandmother’s Story
By Jamie Mayes
My grandmother told me she quit school in the 8th grade
The cotton needed pickin’
And the kids needed feedin’
And in those days, “That’s just the way things was.”
She chuckled a little and then asked me if I could
Teach her to read.
“I reckon I can read, but I don’t understand much,”
She told me.
And a tear rolled down my cheek
For the many ancestors like my grandmother,
Who heads hold more stories than their
Hand can barely write,
Whose fingers curve around pens that write words
They can barely pronounce.
Oh, Grandmother, so often have I
Taken advantage of the way three-
And four-syllable words roll off my tongue with ease
All the times I opted for less words with more pictures
Because my vocabulary was large, but my patience was short.
How many times have I abused the beauty of language
To harm or belittle or destroy others with the same words
You could barely read?
How selfish of me to boast of the things I knew
With no regard for the things you didn’t.
And you...
Worked in the fields for me
So, my hands would never know the pricks of cotton bristles
Or the weariness of long days and short nights
Or a fifth season called harvesting.
There’s no need to teach
When you are the teacher, Grandmother.
So, I shall read to you until my throat dries up
And cotton fills my cheeks the way it used to
Fill the cotton sack you dragged between your fingers for me.
I will read until my voice cracks more than your knuckles
After a long day of cooking for 11 kids, your husband, and
That white family who barely paid enough to feed yourself.
I will read so loudly that my ancestors will know my freedom is ringing.
For every book my ancestors were denied, I will read for you, Grandmother.
And then I will tell your story,
I will write until arthritis cripples my fingers the way it made
Yours lock up from scrubbing floors and handwashing clothes.
I will write until I have given every last ounce of energy
Like you did so many days and nights for me.
I know times have changed, Grandmother
But history is still the same-
Ain’t it funny, Grandmother,
You can barely read the book,
But you tell the story so well.