Metamorphosis

in much the same way
that a moth, once freed from its cocoon,
flees into the sky away from itself,
I am falling away into something new

that calls me down into the depths of -
I, drag myself underneath the palpitating heart
and watch the clustered cells pulse violently
I, hide myself between the follicles of twisted hair
and watch the skin cells slough off

and become the wind and the snow atop mountain peaks.

I am made to watch those pieces which -
hitherto unconscious of their magnificence -
breathe new life into the wearied mind,
and show me that light I sought,
which Prometheus threw down to the curious Eve,

in much the same way
that a moth, once freed from its cocoon,
flees from the sodden ground it once called Paradise.

To He Who Holds My Heart

The feel of your arms
around my waist,
your lips, tender and wanting --

I lifted my face to yours
and fed your hunger.

Who I Am

Who am I?

I am not the wind or the sunlight,
though I have stood within them
and felt their kisses and caresses on my skin.

I am not the ocean or the rain
though both have caught me unaware
as I walked to school as a child,
or along the yellow shore, ignorant of the coming tide.

I am not the eggplants and zucchini
growing in my garden, though
they have sustained me
and made me smile with pride.

I am not my family, though
goodness knows how I have tried,
to please and become them,
they, the only ones closest to me, I know.

I am myself.

But I have not yet discovered who that is.

Cursed Dream

Sorry for the late post. Enjoy!
***************

I couldn't imagine I'd be here.
Burying her.

But the man was coming.
This was her only protection;
Their only protection.

In this forbidden land
Where seeds planted refuse to grow
Where time has stopped and sifted underneath
Thousands of years of sand,

I am burying her, breath and tired eyes,
In the hope that the man will pass by,
And the youthful condemned

Will be spared.

The Premium Wash, Rinse, and Drive

I hadn't gone to one of these since I was young.
I knew what to expect.
I suppose I didn't.

My car rolled slowly into the automated wash,
and I parked it, ready for my five minute-
Super Saiyan snooze.

The water was calming, and drizzled down the side,
and I watched it, suddenly fascinated by
the light it reflected.

It reminded me of...
something.
I closed my eyes.

A sudden roaring sound,
and I was alert, hands at the wheel
10'o clock and 2'o clock respectively, at the ready.

It was the spinning washers,
blue and snakeline, circling above my windshield
seemingly consuming the window on the driver's side.

It was a storm, it seemed,
that swallowed whole my view of the world,
that drowned it in grey soap and multi-colored car wax.

Was it adrenaline?
Or some unknown glamour that had gripped me?
I don't know, but it was exhilarating, and somehow even

Here, in this man-made cave,
I found my inner child, filled with wonder at the sudden
change in her world.  Suffocating claustrophobia, uncertain

where the world had gone.

Then the rain - the water came and washed away the worry.
Then the wind came and cleared my sight.
And somehow, we came out alright.

Sunflowers

Lined against the wooden fence,

a row of corn and sunflowers stood

defiantly, refusing to bow

to the heat of day.

I strolled along the perimeter of the garden

running my hand

along yellow squash

and zucchini blossoms,

and looked into 

the golden eye

of one of the awesome giants.

I peered up into it.

It peered down into me.

I lowered my eyes,

smiled,

and continued on.

Disenchanted Patriot

Okay, I'm sitting in class
and the room is dark
and the others are quiet,
listening to the man
                             with long hair
                             and bitter smile
speak.

Okay, I'm sitting in class
and we're watching the prospectors
skewer children like sick livestock
and steal away their homes
                                         with illegal contracts
                                         and toothy smile.

Okay, I'm sitting in class
watching the hidden genocide
unfold on the ground beneath my feet
centuries old -

Okay - so, I'm writing down -
 on torn, crumpled paper -
in blood
the history of this great nation
                                             with broken heart
                                             and bitten tongue.



*************************************
This poem was my attempt to reconcile with the fact that truly - this nation, the United States of America, was built upon the bloodied bodies and burdened shoulders of, not only my own African ancestors, but of the indigenous peoples of America as well. 

Especially after learning about the American Indian genocide in California - my home - which was a centuries-long attempt to eradicate the indigenous culture and to subjugate completely those whose land was stolen from them, I have been struggling with my allegiance to such a country as this one, one which I wish to raise up to what it could be... but one which I also want to expose to its populace, those who don't know the full extent of this history, or do not wish to contemplate the implications of this country's actions on our present-day lives.

It isn't much, but I hope the fact that its been on my mind, and that it won't leave my mind for decades to come I'm sure, is solace that the disgusting acts perpetrated against indigenous populations has not been forgotten.  I hope that remembering it publicly will at the very least be a first step in the right direction.

http://www.pbs.org/indiancountry/history/calif.html