stone_palm

Father

The translucent flesh of my father materializes in me,
and like ants,
the memories, fears and angry reaction reflexes
march into my brain
appearing long after
he has disappeared.
Though I've only seen him
4 times, less than 30 days in my
nearly 30 years,
I've set the stage to express my rage
but the ACTions are faced inwards
with soft steel walls
keeping audiences blind
shielded by the FAT? Her?
Yes. The father divided,
half to create me, half to my sister
known only by name..
We share the cells
but our mothers were the ones
who took on double the responsibility
to become both mother and father.
The balance has shifted
from within,
like an earthquake that shakes you to the core,
from the weight of forgiveness,
I'm left to wonder,
now that I've let go,
do I freeze?
or SOAR?

Skeleton

Self Destruction

Death by
Invisibility will soon
Enter
The mind for
I have been swallowed by
the diet craze.
A hundred thirty pounds is
too much for a girl
your size, the ads claim, and so
I swallow
the sweet poison
with the hope someday
that I too
will have
skinny legs,
bony arms,
little breasts,
and flat stomach
in order to
please the man
I used to love.
As I too become
a pill popping woman
at one hundred and twenty pounds,
I swallow my desires
and suppress my feelings
of anger
and frustration
at the fear of one day expanding,
gaining power,
and one day consuming the giant
who possesses
my soul.
Slowly, I become
the incredible
shrinking woman.
At one hundred pounds,
the man
I used to love
says I am beautiful
and should become
a model.
I smile but am
too weak to respond.
The poison within my
body and mind has
overpowered me.
My throat has now
shrunk to the point
where I can
no longer scream
for my dreams.
Two ribs are removed
to maintain my
smallness,
my flat stomach,
and my non-existent hips.
I fail to feel
the pain.
My blood has
stopped its circulation
and so I die,
unable to bear life
in my attempt to
recreate
the image
of a twelve year old girl
forced to look
twice her age.

Eye Sculpture

Pass It On

Shhh. Don't tell anyone.
It will be our little secret.
There in the basement,
clean laundry mixes with
dirty deeds
and a secret is kept.
By the time I rejoin
the party that never missed me,
I have buried the memory
beneath lost time
and the lie that says
I have the right to
remain silent,
but not before
I remember
the smell of semen and tide.
Remember, Anger Permeates Everything (RAPE)
staining my consciousness
with false testimony
given by lying tongues
pre-treated with
fear and guilt
until I become brainwashed
and start spinning
out of control.
Endless cycles of self hatred
soaked with shame
left me so confused
I couldn't remember my name
so I wore the label of
VICTIM
forgetting that I was neither
Vic nor Tim
until ten years later,
when wisdom cloaked
in poetry
unraveled lies with its
spoken truth
and healed this
wrinkle in time.
Ladies, gather round,
listen to the whispers
then pass it on.
Tell everyone,
they have the right
to speak to the world.

Memorial

Traveling Souls

Twin souls
separated at birth by the thin
veil of humanity
gave my mother the
illusion
I was born alone.
In the kibbutz of my mother's womb,
hieroglyphic uterine walls
resonate with Cherokee chants
calling for creation.
Anansi descends from the
star of David
weaving seven principles
over seven days
so I can see UNITY.
I learn to sculpt timelines
with tales from midwives
delivering legends
bearing struggles etched in flesh,
nourishing those who wear
their bones on the outside.
Nine moons later,
God presses her finger
to my lips and my
journey begins
with whipping post crucifixions
bleeding from open wounds
down my back
as I scream the blues
forgetting I'm free
until I see Sojourner's truth
rising like a phoenix.
I know that in the face of
divine brilliance,
some will see only the
shadow of my strength
they call it Blackness,
so I document history with
colorful designs.
Misunderstood as
finger-painted doodles,
these road maps to
spiritual realms
framed with refrigerator magnets
disappear with
yellowed ageing paper.
Dried pain chip crumbs
are devoured by alphabet tongues
but resurrected by this
Deaf poet's truth
that I was born a traveling soul.