Wednesday, June 13, 2012

orchard of me

Sugarcane Writers.
Sugarcane is a weekly LGBTQ Of Color Writing Workshop I facilitate in Oakland, CA. 

there is a field with lavender and tiger lilies.  open sky.  wooden barn full of tools to make precious things, gifts for family: chosen, blood, created.  everywhere is an altar.  candles ignite when my gaze touches them.  poetry is everyone’s first language.  my cat cooks me dinner sometimes.  the sky rains glitter and love notes.  dawn is a good friend.  moon and I play patty cake with ocean waves.  my bathroom floor is a beach.  the door is always open.  my neighbors and I hold hands on our way to the grocery store.  laughter is a given.  before the apology, all is forgiven.  best intentions and deep affections intertwined vines all over this house of mine.  I move with the wind, we prance together, choreograph rapid-fire Congolese dances together—then bake cookies.  we: orchard, field, waking reverie, lovely melody, multi-layered harmony.  fire and I love each other so much we feed each other water when we need it.  in this orchard of redwoods and roses, soft as the inside of my own thoughts, I am tender with myself.  rainbows in my tea cup kiss me good morning and plant sonnets on my lips.  this is home, no need to run from all we ever asked for.  family in my arms, so close they live in my skin/my skin not a division between me and the world/a world within me full of lip-locked love stories and all I love about my own self.  an orchard field of my own me.  a bliss of my own me.  a quiet of my own me.  all the running I’ve done into my own me, running across this orchard into my own arms: home.

(This poem was written during a free write at Sugarcane, a weekly LGBTQ Of Color Writing Workshop I facilitate in Oakland, CA.  The beautiful words "an orchard of you" is lovingly credited to  Sugarcane Writer Aima the Dreamer

Sunday, May 13, 2012

for people who (a mother's day poem)

I suppose I should write something,
being a writer and all,
about this day.
many people celebrate this day
with flowers & flowery declarations
am silent
watch this day
from sidelines, silently
I am not bitter
I know that most people that say they aren’t bitter
are bitter
but I am not.  I’m just
there are many things that come between parents and children
that replace umbilical cords with
words held hostage in throat

sometimes home feels farther away
than the most distant memory
I don’t want to feed you clich├ęs.  I’m just being vague
truth is, I don’t want to tell you the truth
if I did then you would know all the words I edit out of all the poems
and therein is the rest of me
the me you don’t see
I am writing this
not to tell an incredibly specific truth about my story
I am writing this because I have to do something on this day
I want to shout out everybody with complicated relationships with their mothers
mothers who it hurts to love up close
hurts to love from a distance
I am writing this for people who did not post beautiful pictures of their mamas
on facebook, twitter and instagram today
folks who never know how to answer “how’s your mum?”
I am writing this for those who feel an ache when they see people in happy relationships with their mamas
I know
me too.
I still believe in healing
I still believe in loving through all the things we don’t know how to love through
and today, if mother’s day is making you feel like an orphan
out of place
or forgotten,
I feel you.
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