Photo from source 360
My home -a salt shaker
crystalized tiny beads stuck in baby holes.
Refusing to savor fully my spirit belly
yearning to hunger no more.
I’ve been homeless and lonely
negative balance in the checking account of
my polluted DNA.
Losing sleep for years
restless in a reservoir of expensive pain.
I’ve eaten greasy food from the shelves of thieves
with a heart-broken in infinite particles.
Leaving feeble quips of iced isolation
bones dry from the musky smell of rejection.
I’ve written pieces of hope and love
But none less of truth,
trembling for days
awaken in dark rooms
tired from holding up the strong sister girl banner.
I am ready to retreat putting my feet in the hammock of resistance
leaving this energy that once gave me glory.
Feeding on the manna of my African-American girl story
in want of restoration
kind soft love.
Hugging the insides of a blue blackened soul
refusing to continually feud with fools
paving my own path of inner bravery.
Prepared to stake my space in my father’s freedoms safety net.
Curling my skin on top of a fertile mattress where naked soldiers once dreamt and believed.
Relieving the nervous chatter
voices bleeding words of disdain
the covers my lover again.
Dam to tired to cry and to fragile to pray
Faithfully deciding that today
I am going to reverently
Much to heart sick and body beat from fighting the radicalized buffoonery-I finally received my ancestors peace.
Sister is home.
by: I Am Salaam