I am lost in the trails of my
meandering through darkened streets,
just so tears can dampen something different
today, let them beat the pavement instead
and mingle with the rain
my un-earned malaise is not as noticeable then.
and i can lean against lampposts and watch the pitter patter
of my past
slip and slide down cheeks and bounce of the curve of my chest
to connect with the ground. it accepts my pain when
i'm not worried - my secrets are safe in a city of millions
not a single soul will notice the tears of
one little black girl
if she cries softly enough.
we're all too busy, buzzing, busing ourselves around
and shuffling past each others pain.
so, i can cry in peace
my wandering eyes and heart come across
vigils from people who still believe in things like
and the power of our message
and instead of tears, the're dripping pools of wax at the feet of
ivory towers -
LSE for gaza - counting bodies and raising fists.
so i pause. and stand
let myself feel what that 'feels' like,
and for now at least, it feels like i'm crying about something real.
tears for a world
doomed to disaster
destined to demise
its almost the end of days they say...
and these disasters remind me it could be true.
i think we should be holding hands.
my eyes seek to connect with who i who i once was -
i am reaching out
the cold is all that wraps round my fingers
working its way into spaces between bones.
and the empty space reminds me that i am still
a little black girl in a big city
where even in its practice of humanness,
has forgotten our purpose.