- IN THE FIRST PERSON (for ntozake shange) -
and from my particular window on the world, i dont know a poem.
i dont know a poem that can take it away
i dont know a poem that could make it not matter, make it untrue
as she remains, with strength, weaving painful looms and singing the blues
but nobody is listening
i dont know a poem birthed in me that could find itself and speak, the words just weep
they go back, unearth and remember them, walk with them,
look in the mirror and share their silence
i am you and you are me
i dont know a poem that could level the playing fields
fields littered with souls, the scores
these be our sores
tired eyes that wont leave the floor
no, i dont know a poem.
i dont know a poem that could shine its light on you
be a voice, that hasnt too,
tasted the whiskey of the scar of pigment
that didnt dull its thinking, back bent under the shadow of this mountain - on the rocks, with a slice lemon - of this present, missing narrative
that hasnt tasted the frustration in your explanations
i am afraid i know what you mean, i am afraid
and i am ashamed, i would now give you me
but these are just words, a hue of indigo
so i light a candle for you
for i do not know a poem
i do not know a place, there has been no space and
i wonder if there will ever be a time
when i dont have it in me to lament anymore, as any of those who already know
then i dont know a poem that hasnt been said before
i dont know a poem.
for the black woman.