here is my heart to place under yours.
you are slow breaths
all that strength you made fom your blood.
a whole nation of black pain.
you carried in your spine.
a jail cell. made from your mother’s island.
i return some to you.
ninety four years
is many bones to go through.
many walks through the sun.
many hearts to shed.
many stars of joy to comb through your hair.
a lot of time
let us hold you now.
let us warm the water for your skin.
let our youth be your comfort.
we have seen how your feet danced.
that we have commited
you. to memory.
all hope and fresh mourning.
we know what the ancestors sound like
when they come.
they are ready for you.
if you have done
you came to do.
are finished transcribing your soul into humanity.
have our cloth ready.
our flowers ready.
our songs in our mouths ready.
our feet and all the drums ready.
our fresh water.
watching over madiba (june. 23, 2013. 6:07 p.m. est, usa), nayyirah waheed (via nayyirahwaheed)
today, dec 5th, 2013 madiba has gone from this world. i thank him for the wideness and largeness of his spirit, the lion of his waters, the strength that fed us all. he taught me the truth about africa, taught me that she can and never will be defeated. i shed tears because i am happy you were here, amongst us, with us, filling us all with your light, love, and quiet honey. you magnificent child of Africa, let us sing and dance you home to the ancestors :)))
Indian Diorama, Science Museum of Minnesota Childhood Memories
The brown shiny hard plastic Indian mother bared her brown shiny hard plastic breast to suckle her brown shiny hard plastic Indian child. Frozen in stiff motion before an endless rotation of 3rd and 4th graders on field trips, all craning their necks to get a look at her brown shiny hard plastic naked Indian breast.
H/t to John Lee Clark for the share
Performing during semifinals for DC’s Beltway Poetry Slam.
*TW* Rape (Strong verbal imagery)
.أوَلَ وطنٍ لي
.أوَلَ مَكانٌ عُشتُ فيهِ
my first country.
the first place i ever lived."