Clothed in his intimacy

Thu, 03/13/2014 - 15:14 -- _dezha
Butterflies all behind my teeth
taking the marrow all out of this brokeness
He is young again trying the find the fundementals in his father funeral
and I homocide over all these melocoly like memories 
temptaion has a tendency to make even the strongest ingnorant and be new again
realizing that you dont belong and being okay with it
with men with boys with you
and your breath sounds ike four years of yesterdays 
the terror from your bones from your step from your insides 
sister I will sit here and the spirit of emptiness sits on her soul like air in lungs and we called her crazy
These people have forgotten what it feels like to call on God
I can't go on knowing these sisters are broken God
she must not know her body is holy templed holy touched holy hollowed
Did you not know your feet are beautiful when you carry the gospel
you must not know what it feels like to be colored and know that your body is as beautiful as this war building up inside her womb
You must not know what it feels like to be colored and unmoved
so I sit here
with your voice a broken pigment 
hands so full of intellegence 
you excpect me to watch my novice loose her mind and her babies
and not say anything
everytime this time of the year rolls n he wants to act all delioriously commical
like he must not know what she feels like
what it feels like to carry something 
what it feels like to be colored and hurt and not man enough to tell somebody
not man enough to comfront this terror and tell it that we are the kind of people that demons fear
but he is not man enough, so I will articulate for him today
his eyes so black so big, they meant something to me
and God only knows it makes me uncomfortable 
and when I found out of the hells that I come from, the secrets I found my mother clothed in its sweetest flame
here, we let the back door close by itself and pray that the cat don't find its way back in
my mind feasts on the bodies of the men who do this with my Emak
and were too busy dwellng on what coud have beens and what we haves and what we wants 
Aunt Jemima dont you get tired
with your apron wrapped swiftly against your broad hips having the blackness dumped out of you
how does it feel to watch her let him leave
with all these adoloscents all up her walls 
watching my sister loose her mind and her babies and her man
unable to do anything
forgetting what it feels like to call on God
forgettng what it feels like to be colored and wounded and weeping 
I am going to work against these wars with bruises
and everytime my sister loosees something or he wants to leave this time of year rolls in
with all their dirty laundry 
and three years ago this time of year
trying to find the fundementals in their sons funeral
and reminding yourself not to question God of his workings 
or your skin, or your body

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