yesterday
u put
yr albums
with my
my pictures in
yr deepest cabinets

i saw u
trace my cheeks
with yr tears
with yr wet finger

becuz i
dissappeared
again

and the door shook
again
under firm fists

the police came again

mom
i
ironed yr dress
today
i
washed that
yellow flowered dress
scented it lightly with
yr perfume
ironed it
stiff
fr u

dad i
stood
over yr sleeping body
for an hour
trying to find the words
to set u free
from thoughts that lay
across yr mind like
bars imprisoning u

mom
dad
i
cooked breakfast
before i walked
out yr door
into a waiting van
onto a waiting street
into exile

and don't tell me
u didn't raise yr boy
to be a soldier
becuz u armed me
with pride and
sharpened
my tongue

dad i
stood over u
remixing my intentions
laying out my solo
practicing a
soliloquey
that never came to me
so i left without a goodbye
hoping to come back without a hello
and weave myself back into our family seamlessly
as we forge a new community together

becuz i
dedicate my body my
life everything
that i've built up
to the day
when u can stand tall and
look a man in eye without
landing in the mud

i saw u in the mud
i saw u whimper

u don't speak
the word
revolution
but it screams of u
dad

u may
speak of me
in whispers
in corners
but i shout u
in daylight

we build music to the sound of
black feet running tried
to chorus that sound in
war chants sung in
protest melodies

it's not the tear gas talking it's
a mouth that cannot be quieted its
my mouth speaking it's
my mouth shouting for peace it's
my mouth with a rag in it

it's
my mouth
speaking
for u




==**peace**==

"the skilled binder uses no strings or knots, while to unloose what he has bound would be impossible." Lao Tzu

"I'm proud to be your woman not your girl" Jill Scott

DomePoem Poets; redefining the third dimension of spoken word