Poems, Prose & Short Stories Galore: Heartfelt Proof of Life Lived

Juneteenth Spoken Word

I did a spoken word in the city I live in for the Juneteenth event hosted by the local Arts center. I'm quite proud of it, and it was well received. Trigger Warning: Mention of violence.

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I admit, I don't understand racism,

The mental concept of the hierarchy of a race,

For me, it just doesn't have a solid base,

Racism and prejudice always had a peculiar face,

Sometimes overt, sometimes so subtle in systemic undercurrents that you could say it had a sinister type of grace,

But it's simply beliefs and thought forms, implanted, misconstrued, and misplaced,

Into consciousness of misperceived lackluster, embedded with fear that elicited misguided bluster,

We were feared and yet coveted, branded as savages and using 'Black Magick,'

This is really quite tragic, considering we are all One underneath this Sun, living the Human Experience together,

Spirit flows through us, there is life in every body, yet that had been forgotten in the illusion of separation,

The forgetting brought about disorder and segregation, Jim Crow legacies, stolen DNA from Henrietta Lacks, chaos and destruction,

The aftereffects were far-reaching, creating collective and generational friction,

My grandmother experienced racism from her mother,

Threats of cracking her head open and pulling out the black blood in her,

I want to say my great-grandmother really did love my grandmother, but was slighted by a lover, mi abuela's father,

It left resentment and self-loathing,

Wrapping my grandmother in a sinister coating,

There's lost understanding as to why Black Pride is quintessential to rise above forced beliefs of unworthiness & patterns of self-destructive dissection,

And so, it began to run into my family until it ran into me,

Breaking generational curses of turning away from therapy & bursts of anger that is trauma-induced and reactionary, towards our children and the world that we have a God-given right to live and thrive in.

Feeling of joy & safety used to be treated like a 4-leaf clover,

But the time goes by, and the internal need for war becomes done and over,

Befriending the anger, channeling it to overcome the challenge of being beaten, belittled, stereotyped & pushed over,

Learning to be gentle with ourselves as we strive for excellence and releasing the need to have the world upon our shoulders,

If Martin, Harriet, and Malcolm could see us now, I pray that they would be at least a bt proud,

As we Black Bodies stand on the shoulders of giants who have faced the unfaceable,

Being menaced upon, whether peaceful or aggressive, with intimidation of being stolen and becoming untraceable.

Lookie here... the Black body has always found its way to reconstruction,

To rejoice & find soulful Humanity despite debasing & misdirection.

Coming back to the roots of before, calling upon our ancestors and the Orixas of lore,

Deep breaths of relief, when realizing that we can do, have, and be more,

From map-embedded braids to Gracie's corner, Wakanda and fashionista bonnets,

To introduce flavor to discarded meat scraps for the slaves; baby, we were all up on it.

Reminding oneself of the blessings that our people graced us with as they pass,

Rejoicing in the revelation that we have the conscious choice to be more than just angry, displaced Blacks,

There is hope and possibility to flourish, to be thriving,

Now it's time for us to vibrate beyond the mindset of, "just surviving."