Ghosts

I see ghosts all around me. In the shadows of a city once bustling with culture, In the absence of brown faces, In the presence of white.   I see ghosts all around me. In cracked cement that will never be filled, In crumbling brick and stone, In “No Trespassing” signs where no one would…

The Lord’s Back Was Black

The poem is Jesus speaking to a slave master while he beats his slave. It explores the paradoxical reality of Christian slave owners in the 19th century. It speaks from the perspective of Jesus who identifies with the oppressed, persecuted, and marginalized. This assumption is drawn from the passage when Jesus spoke to Paul saying…

Resistance

Yearning, dissenting, striving A freedom song among the cotton stocks A harbor steeped in revolution Patchwork hope along the tracks of a perilous ride Remembering, lamenting, achieving From Yorktown’s final drumbeats To barefoot children’s first steps Arms of freedom reaching out and drying paint on picket signs Endurance, resilience, memory Flowing verse from the lips…

Solidarity Is(n’t) Dead

Solidarity Is(n’t) Dead They Say that Solidarity is Dead And I wouldn’t disagree It’s always been “us against them” That’s blatantly clear to see – “What about us” we chorus “Stop killing us” we cry “Black Lives Matter” we scream “All Lives Matter” they reply We exalt our concerns, but they’re met with denial Watching…

This Body

I have been taught that as a woman in this world my body is not my own- It’s for the critics politicians and grabby hands, for the stranger who whistled at me on the street to dream of at night when he’s alone for religion to lock up and blame. What if they’re right?- My…