Darkie Fiction

i speak to stone flowers

I speak to stone flowers
disheveled by their woes
hearts barren
unable to grow
their naked skin stoned
by broken mothers
and hollowed fathers
fingers crooked from
playing with marbles
jaws defined by
constant clenching
the apple in their necks
choking them
as they swallow the tears
their eyes will never let escape

I speak to stone flowers
groped by faces who
changed their diapers
huddled together
by a musty bodega
scents of musky
spray and weed smoke
mingled together
with their stifled pain
if only marijuana could tell
her conquests' secrets
if only their stories could remain

I speak to stone flowers
who rob in the daylight
those they call brothers
point guns to their heads
because a brother knows
another brother's story
this is how families are fed
this is how slaves have fled
this is how tomorrows
are promised

I speak to stone flowers
who allowed for victims to
lay naked without justice
and to wonder if that day's
bathe might be their last
now their faces are cast away
their faces are molded with clay
dried and used in a play
masqueraded to the world
as different archetypes

I speak to men
who were once flowers
with moist eyes like dew
in the morning hours
teeth little as seeds
awaiting germination
smooth skin for petals
their fingers ever
growing stems
and feet
the little buds
that one day leave
hoping to lead
without humiliation

I speak to men
stoned by medusa's gaze
whose cries were silenced
and hair portrayed
as aspis snakes
it takes
the empathy of
morning dew
potential of a seed
the blossom of petals
the reach of a stem
and power of a leaf
to disintegrate
the stone
and flourish

● ●

I wrote this after having conversations with men about how they treat women and their own individual trauma. I learned a lot and during these times of horrific femmicide and the disrespect of women's lives. I wanted to write them a message. I hope this speaks to you as a man who reads this.

Protect women. Our lives matter too.

- Mawizana {wise - one}