17-21

17/30
Thank You Ms Shange

First time I read it
I thought
How did this lady get in my head
Hijack my feelings and put it in a play
26 years before I entered this earth
When I experienced "for colored girls who have considered suicide when the rainbow is enuf"
My spirit danced a la lady in yellow
I felt initiated into a secret society of fly black ladies
I felt...vindicated
Like everything I've gone through in my short life made sense
Why cry over heartache
When you can take away someones cop out sorry and turn it anthem
Someone may almost walk off wid alla your stuff
Devastated you may think there is no coming back
Like tragedy is a black woman heirloom
And perhaps it is
But there will always be sisters who understand the song and dance
Loving with no assistance
More than poem
Encountering this work is a gift
Reminds you black girl magic is no new trend
That while we have not yet found solutions to metaphysical dilemmas of black womanhood
We possess the same bad ass spirit of these colorful heroines
Self care will always be revolutionary and imperative
as I fight for my place on the rainbow
I will be sure to sing my own songs
Create from a place of authenticity
Birth mantra into the world for the next crop of magical black girls
And handle myself with the warmth, love, and fierceness the god in me deserves

18/30

"Grandma's house is not a what?"
Question dripping with statement
We all knew the answer
Responses engraved in our throats for as long as I can remember
This was normal call and response whenever a grandchild became too rowdy
My grandparents' residence was never playground
But it was source of adventure
Housed my favorite library
Many days I was not disruption because I was self exiled to the kitchen table
Poring through encyclopedias and poetry books
Knowledge just felt sweeter here
Museum of relatives close and unfamiliar
Never shortage of photographs to peek at
Never a story I tired of listening to as aunties recalled my mother as a me
The soundtrack: laughter and 92.5
Every gathering boiled down to storytelling and dance
My family knew how to entertain until the motivation passed
Traditions inevitably followed
Grandma's house is a stranger now
It looks the same from the outside as you drive by slowly
But you know your eyes are liars
The soul exited a while ago
It ceased to be the nest Jerry and Lois built
Their hatchlings have flown away
Making the country their playground
Grandma's house is not one

19/30

Have always been heavy handed
Laughed hard
Talked entirely too loud
Experienced outside the lines

I do not lack ideas or imagination
Capable of comprehending logic
It just don't always matter
Because when I'm hooked
In something or someone
When I allow myself to believe
It's real

Tears are the overflow of emotion the body doesn't know how to handle
They do not always convey sadness
Often times liquid leaves eyes against my will
To express frustration

My middle name is currently synonymous with a fixer
Who is way too good at handling everything that is not her personal life
And life imitates art a little too closely
with my compulsion to help others repair themselves
as if God grants extra credit that substitutes for lack of personal growth

Empath
At times I have desire to numb
Or self destruct
Breakdowns take place
Make way for newness
Births motivation to stay present
Create
Think
Feel

20/30

What becomes of the child who never had an audience?
Someone to flood them with necessities
Like support and love
We lose sympathy
When they become drought of a young woman
Indiscriminately seeking moisture
From any source
God bless her for her self sufficiency
But nobody but nobody makes it alone
What becomes of the unremembered child?
Whose social skills are lacking
Patience isn't plentiful for young adults with attitudes
Mangled roots for veins
And rabbit like heart that becomes startled when people get too close
It's easy to misinterpret
Become flustered when they throw away your earnest intentions
Defensive
They observe everything
Quick to point out discrepancies in facial expressions
Tone
Will challenge your desire to support them
Do you really care?

I am invested in what happens next
But feel uneasy in knowing my support alone won't be enough
Drops in a vase that is extremely deep
At times I feel it makes no difference
But they keep showing up
And making steps that look like growth to the hopeful eye
I know that I lack the key to the door marked self love
But I can help her look
Cheer one way or another
Remind her that she is not forgotten

21/30

"If you lived honestly, your life would heal itself"

Perhaps I'm not ready for full restoration
to cut through layers of scar tissue
that have mended itself
-albeit improperly
truth work hurts
involves rehashing old stories for the sake of clarity
maybe I am just not ready to be clear
murky gets to be familiar
home like even
you'd be surprised how muscle memory comes in handy
after a while you don't even feel the egg shells
You don't even recognize how your lips have become perfect barricade
No boat rocking information escapes
No truth serum is allowed entrance
It's possible this is not healthy
Living in a self constructed prison of convenience
But the alternative...
That shit is life changing

We're almost at the end of the challenge. It's about to get REAL.