Oftentimes in between chants and cigarettes and rest, oftentimes when I’m sitting on the porch with loved ones, many talk about how they are not sure what they are going to say when asked about these times–as though we are not suspended in them. As though we haven’t been suspended in time for a while. As if justice always hanging in the balance. Due to the warfare on Blackness joining the warfare on indigeneity, is no longer being hidden behind a veil, I feel like I only have the ability to talk about meditation…as a Black Native…as someone use to hurting. As a Black queer trans individual, I feel as though I’ve always been attacked at every angle. And now that there have been several ruptures, I no longer feel the need to hide or overexplain myself. These collections of poems, this trilogy, is a meditation…are several meditations. This truly is my response to the question, “What will you say about the summer of 2020?” I have dated them. I have been as honest as I can be. I have loosely used metaphor. Take a deep breath with me.
“These days, for protection”
February 27, 2020
These days, For protection. I don’t just hold Me Self when I’m sad. I put, I imagine, These days For protection For protection these days, I put my child Self on me lap. Wrap me in my own arms With me in my lap And fall in the palm OF Me higher? Naw giant Inter- Galactic Self. For protection, These days… I just mean Me right? Like my child-like Wonder? Naw joy. These days To protect Me To protect My joy, I allow myself My child, me… I mean the child (Of Gaia, Of God) The child in me? These days, For protection. I don’t just hold… These days, For protection, For protection These days I, with myself In me lap Fall asleep In my very Own Palm.
“Today, on me ring finger”
May 14, 2020
Today, I sat Within myself, Again And yet I ain’t sit in me palm. Couldn’t dare sit in Enough comfort Not With this carcass-shaped Grief in me belly. So -I sit with Myself I sit within myself by collapsing Timely, on me ring finger’s tipping point. So I directly feel me heat Mending from a safe distance, All while balancing rage disposal and Transmutation… I sob, Silently still, As I was taught to mind Whose earshot I’m in, On this side, and the next… Sobbing still Make waves, So I rock Crossing me arms, Making a raft of me right hand on me left shoulder Me left on me right, AFLOAT, on the bed my consent was never asked for I remember my hands, My strength, The unbreakable force Of me mother’s mother’s Momma’s LOVE. I sob and rock Myself Into my palm. Carried and carrying Me bloodline, The wombs responsible For mine.
“These days, my hands since the Uprising”
July 15, 2020
These days These days me hands are very tender Too tender, Scorched with both fire n boiling water And and and Rubber bullets den gave me stigmatas . . . Tear gas make me run away from me These days I settle for plugging me wounds With my heart and mind separately Reality Reality be unbearable when dey merge (Converge?) They stay bickering though I gotta be comfortable With discomfort Community Praising me for ALL de WRONG Tricks. . . I haven’t I haven't held ME in ---ages. Me left me lonely in hopes Of sorrow not finding me. Guess what? DAT BITCH den tagged me up. With stencils AND a collar These days These days sitting in silence... Intentional gaps between M E Don't seem like compromise These days me hhands tremble too much For You know, I’m okay cause okay be De bare breath? And I STAY breathing So these days me Settle for clear drainage. Blood and bitterness are every present and For me mental sake(s) I will ONLY caress the back of me hands. (Keep palms for the divine to deal with)