A Little Bit Of Sunshine

Do not be afraid to be extraordinary  To bite the hand that beats you Do not concern yourself with who burns In the blaze of your glory Do not be sorry.  Do not be polite about your inner light For the mourners will come all at once  Demanding a song to play all night  Do not live an unfulfilled life just to be buried with the wordsa "At least she was perfectly nice" 

I'm all faith and no leap All bite and no teeth And as I go to speak Something silences me It's a weight, rendering me incapable of flight It's a whisper, curling doubt  in the back of my mind  It's the hand of a child, begging  me not to let go Their eyes are my own, except they  were afraid to fail And I'm afraid to be great. 

My simplest time looked like sixth period shuffling along with no enthusiasm Our pleated skirts had seen better days our braids swayed after us  in a defiant trail Heads tipped in raucous laughter Though I couldn't recall the joke It was everything, I suppose... A dry cheese sandwich split four ways  after a long day is still  the best thing I've ever tasted I do not think the sun shone upon us brighter then Nor the load we carried  were any lighter It was just Tuesday We thought it would never end And tomorrow, we'd start all over again 

Somebody's always shoving a blue ribbon  in my face Telling me how lucky I am to be a woman   When really my teeth hurt from swallowing my words I have no shoulder to store my hurt and the fine layer of dust on all the furniture is bothering me  But I can't be bothered to get on my feet And how the granadillas have ripened nicely So there are always more leaves to sweep Day by day, rinse and repeat  I only ever feel complete, at ease  when I tote my third cup of coffee without  spilling a drop I always know the best places to look  when something is lost Doesn't that say a lot

Now, you see I wasn't quite done When you scooped the air from my lungs And now I went and swallowed my own tongue I hadn't quite finished my point when you took it from my hands  And lulled me with sweet sweet dreams  Empty spilling out of my pockets  Hungry piled up on my plate I'll hold my own arm if that's okay  Your strength was nothing but a trick of the light contending  With my own eyes The final act of the night You can keep your damage I got mine.  Staring me down by the truckload I never needed help ruining my life  I'll manage just fine, thanks

I wanted to be more than I was To toe the edge of the canvas To spill over- my cup was chipped Warm honey sipped and spat out Sweet teapot tipped over plush carpet Lace curtains ripped with the same familiar fingers that hugged her warm  A steady grip confining her exquisite form And so granted her wish...she was more  More brittle More faces More wounded  More pieces, scattered from the whole  More became a shame More was something to be tamed  She crawled back into her cup Tucked safely in the page she'd meant to escape  She knew now what the tingle was Not itching to be more  But longing to be enough 

A Black girl was not a thing of magic She found the entire charade tiresome and tragic The need to paint everything elflike, legendary Like there was no beauty in the ordinary Still they surrounded her like a fairy Willing her to dazzle and dance  But her steps would falter,  her shine disappoint when they realised There were no wonders beneath her shorts And sometimes she smacked her hips to make a point Right then and there she'd run out of spells to pepper her words Exhaust her supply of potions Come sundown her crown of glory began to melt...  And become a kinky mass With a resounding click,  she would close her bag of tricks... Passed down from her grandmother's mother And waited, impatient, as the glitter wore off and left her just another chip off the old block Black, middling, plain  Business as usual Cleanup on aisle four This was fine, she couldn't ask for more  So what if her life story wouldn't be told  across the campfire  In hushed, ...

And I let despair take a mean walk through a seedy neighborhood Where nothing good had ever frequented...  Where staccato steps rang on the concrete The street hush with bated breath And the chiming of a broken swing set Still warm with children Holding on with sticky fingers before their mothers bid them inside  Startled by sounds of gunfire And even further, where the sky glowed An ominous red And in the air echoed the soft strings of death And further still Where the floor was lava and the eyes that followed were no longer that of men And crawled finally, into the belly  Of a fork-tongued beast At the end of it all, my despair  Was no more

Her heaven was the crevice  Between his shoulders,  Whenever he would hold her.  She could sit there for millenia Beneath the patterned brow And ruminate how  seamlessly she fit She didn't have to bend, contort and twist Her frame Or follow a script  Truth be told,  She'd never had the stomach for love Its bloody guts and grimy parts Left a sticky residue all over her heart  But if she tried, she might've recognized  The sweetness in the air as bliss The warmth in his arms as home

But when a man drapes "pretty"  around your neck like a charm Dazzling string of pearls  Listen closely for the price beneath his words Every time he calls me beautiful,  he takes something away He captures my worth in his palm For me to chase He puts me on a pedestal I can't escape  His praise is nothing but a pretty cage To be invisible is freedom To be plain, a blessing  The average girls get to have all the fun Posing and posturing for no one Oh, you like it how I turn just so.. But my innermost thoughts go unknown I'd rather be respected  Than chewed and dissected

My friends think poems are stupid And I'm half inclined to agree Too bad they're the only way  I know how to breathe Painting patterns with my words A self-portrait in colours and verse My mother chides me, "Well it's hardly a life path" But I'm already a 1000 miles in It's threaded in my heart And tatooed on my skin It is the melody ringing at the back of my head At times an explosive jazz number At others, the aching notes of a lone piano propped in the shade That no one but me knew how to play Poetry is the steady hand on my shoulder when there's nothing left to say

I can recognize pain from a mile away Etched on her lover's face Tangled in their warm embrace It's like a language of its own Distorted, lost in translation  Unspoken, yet told Through the eyes of those who know Who've seen, who've felt Who've mourned in the stillness of the night Who awake to yet another fight / It colours their world and sours their taste They seem to run at a different pace  Theirs is an unfortunate power To carve out joy with their teeth To stand on unsteady feet

She's 23, you know Like a newborn shoot, lush and green Tender reed bending in the breeze Crisp as the new fallen snow Jabbing against the stream with her elbows For her voice is not yet bold Oh, but she is lovely... Wat she lacks in grace, she makes up  in beauty  She is collecting loves like flowers to weave in her hair Although these will soon sour For she could never stay planted  in one place too long  Awash with that youthful glow,  She floats  from branch to branch With childlike wonder as a rope