If only life were a fairytale

Then we could escape this cruel twist world

A life where we constantly have to blend in with society in hopes of not becoming a target

Ignoring the fact that you’re already a target.

The moment you took your first breath someone was being taught they were superior than you, someone was taught to fear you, and yes someone was taught that your life was so worthless that they can take it and get away with it.

This is a reality that you my dear boy will have to come to terms with at an early age.

Like Langston Hughes Mother to Son,

You my son must learn what I learned many years ago.

Life for me ain’t been no crystal stair and life for you just won’t be fair,

But as the blood of our ancestors flow through your veins,

Always remember, when you walk out of a room their perception of you will never be the same.

With the purest aura and the strength of a thousand men,

Those tacky stairs in the form of privileged individuals will see what I have seen since the moment of your birth.

A STRONG BLACK NEGUS.

They say you never miss something until it’s gone.

In our case you’ve e been gone a long time.

Too long for me to continue to miss.

Physically you are here, but mentally you’re two blocks over.

Happily engaged with a one night stand that became a newfound fixture in your life.

A simplicity you decided could no longer be found at the home we built.

The home whose foundation wasn’t as solid as you promised.

So now the home is shifted, stairs tattered, and paint chipped from the years of being unhappy and neglected.

Years of thoughtless coming and going for the sake of a marriage that just wasn’t it anymore.

Until you finally come home to the eerie silence and cold stove.

Finally taking notice of the batter house that you used to call a home.

A house that is now empty as you call out my name only to be met once again with silence.

A silence that wouldn’t have greeted you if you had only made it home 5 minutes sooner to see me walking out the door with my suitcase in hand.

The tears running down my face as I mourned the death of the old me that loved you.

The man I thought I’d spend forever with.

The man that now sits at the dinner table thinking about all he will now miss.

All that he can’t get from two blocks over.

The unconditional love that he had, but now it’s gone.

I was told that if I traveled far enough I would find the stairway to heaven

Could you imagine a place like that existing

I mean really imagine…

To journey to the top of the stairs and get lost in the clouds

Call out your loved ones names and see their face spreading the white fluffiness the looks like cotton

Reach out your hand and place it gently on their cheek

Watch the smile spread across their face and fill you with the warmth of their presence

Catch them up on all that they missed and wishes of their return to the land of the living

And then all too soon say goodbye for the second time because although the stairway leads to heaven, heaven is not ready for you yet

Someone once said that when an old person dies a library burns down.

So you mean to tell me that all that knowledge and wisdom will be reduced to ashes simply because their spirit has left it’s temporary housing?

The walks of my people will now be erased like the rain pouring down to wash away footsteps, is that what you are saying?

Well that is something I just cannot accept. 

My history will not be erased like what was tried to be done to the walls of the great pyramids. 

The pyramids my ancestors built and left messages for those to come that have now been smeared to tell an altered story. 

The story of my ancestors will live through me and the generations to come  because they will be taught to never stop telling the story’s. 

Through me they will know that their roots trace back to Benin, a country in West Africa that once was named the Dahomey Kingdom. 

Through me they will know that my grandmother hid her deaf brother in the trunk of a car and drove from Tennessee to Illinois to escape being lynched. 

Through me they will know that they have ties to the land between two rivers also known as Cairo, IL. Where race wars played a pivotal role in its downfall. 

Through me they will know that their mother and father were soldiers and didn’t hesitate to fight for their country even though many are not so understanding of who they are. 

And through me they will forever say the names Eric Garner, Tamir Rice, Trayvon Martin, Sandra Bland, Freddie Gray, Philando Castile, Oscar Grant, Botham Jean, Atatiana Jefferson, Pamela Turner, Korryn Gaines, Emmett Till, George Stinney, and the countless others throughout history. 

For those names tell a story that will force the world to face a cold hearted reality that many just cannot accept, but will hear because it will never be silenced. Just like the tales from the old person that is no longer with us. 

So yeah, some may feel a library is burned down when an old person dies, but I say it’s built stronger. 

Every time the stories are told another book is added. And after all the shelves are full and there can be no more, more libraries will be built because my library will never burn down.

Last night we danced and it was magical.

You walked in the room and there was no one else but us.

Nothing extravagant, just an ordinary room where you and I were the only two people in the world.

It started slow with us looking into each other’s eyes and then transitioned into a cozy two step as we teased each other with rhythm.

The music changed and we waltz from one corner to the next before moving into a tango.

That tango meant more than we both could ever imagine.

It was during that moment our feelings were on display.

Eyes connecting, body’s moving, and hearts intertwining to the language of love.

Last night we danced and it was magical.

As I closed my eyes, I remember the feeling of floating to another place.

In this place, I was barefoot walking through the woods. Every snap of a twig and crunch of a leaf made my feel as if I was going to somewhere of importance.

The sound of tribal music could be heard from the distance so I follow it until I find the source.

The brightest fire could be seen burning as a man dances around it.

What stood out the most is a woman, her eyes held secrets with a side of no nonsense, she is relaxed and in her element, her locs hang loose and she is looking directly at me.

In my mind I hear her speak her name and her name is Lavender. She looks in a direction and I know to go that way.

Although I want to stay, the journey must continue.

I am now at the bottom of a mountain and doubt I am able to climb it. That is until a grey and white wolf appears behind me growling.

Fear propels me up the mountain and before I know it I am halfway up.

Looking down the wolf is there watching and fear is removed from the equation.

There is familiarity in the wolf just like I felt when I looked at Lavender.

Both play a role in this quest and equally important.

With a whisper of gratitude and newfound strength, I climb to the top of the mountain and open my eyes into my ascension.

She dwelled at the bottom of the sea
Heartbroken from what they had done to her
They came like a thief in the night
All that she knew, they took
Her children were gone and so was her home
Placed on a strange boat to a strange land
They took everything from her except her pride
Her pride would not allow her to cower and hide from them
She would leave this world before she gave the last of her to them
Just as they came is how she left
Into the water and away from it all
She gave herself freely to a body that asked for nothing
Mother Yemaya could take her; those strange people were not worthy
Last breath taken when new life began
She dwelled at the bottom of the sea
With her arms stretched open wide
Embracing all those who wished to be free.