What Damon has shared in this YouTube short from a recent interview will remain with me for years to come.
How apropos is this right now at this very moment?!
Millions of people will have to accept what has occurred, endure it as best as we can, and eventually come out on top.
Hold on. Be strong. Don’t ever let go.
The boy on the corner
Is a stalking kind . . .
His father preys on fleshy,
Widowed women, and eats
Their hopes and dreams
For breakfast.
The boy, the apple now
Mimicking the tree, decides
To rob the schoolgirls of
Their flesh.
His kills are fresh,
They won’t be missed.
He observed their
Actions–comings and goings,
Little lives lost to a
Haunted heart.
No one questions him
About the items he steals
From each girl–his newfound
Possessions, memorabilia to
Be pedestaled for centuries to
Come.
A sordid life,
His legacy.
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I know you do. I ask
Not for a response, but
Rhetorically.
I received news that has
Broken me–torn my heart
Into thousands of pieces, so
I’m coming to you.
I always come to you–in
Sickness, health, during times
Of Sadness, and of joy.
This time, though . . . this
Time is different.
A feeling of worthlessness
Washes over me. I have
Been abandoned, neglected,
Rejected, and looked over for
Second bests and thriving
Environments are rising over
These selections.
Am I not worthy of coupleship?
Am I not worthy of a legacy?
Oh, God, the dog sleeps and
The tortoise has buried itself
Under its bedding in its cave.
They do not hear my cries.
The dog is deaf and the tortoise
Could care less, so I come
To you.
Four months later, he tells
Me of a baby girl he hasn’t been
Able to share . . . hasn’t been
Able to whisper to me of her
Name. Who we were stopped him.
We didn’t want marriage. We
Didn’t want children, but we
Loved them.
He married. He now has a child,
And four months later, he speaks.
About her . . . about the beauty
Behind her eyes.
My phone floods with pictures
Of this sweet and precious soul,
And I see him in her, his mother,
And his father, and then he says,
“We need to talk, but I’ll have
To find time to do so freely,
I didn’t want to
Tell you like this.”
And I break down.
Not from sadness about the
News. Not because I am
Not “The One.” But because he
Felt like he couldn’t tell me.
But because he felt like our
History–our trauma from our
Upbringings would crush his
Words.
How do you tell the
One you didn’t marry, you didn’t
Have children with because you
Both were afraid that you now
Have crossed off the second
Thing y’all never wanted to do?
I put on his shoes.
I take a walk in them.
I try to understand.
I take long, deep breaths, and
Then, I cry.
God, we are where we are
Because of the decisions
WE made. We ran. We felt
Like we would mess up
Just as our parents did.
We didn’t want to fuck up
Children–break the cycle,
Shift the curse . . .
Fear will make you miss out
On life. And it did. With us.
Keep him safe. His wife, too.
And now, his baby girl.
Please, God. I know you will.
I know you can.
And the pain I feel now
Will not be with me next year.
I will be free. I will accept
What is and what will be.
I know that my life as it is
Now will not be what it is
In the future.
Whatever you do, God,
While you’re remembering my
Prayers for him and his family,
Please remember me.
an unscheduled day off
enfolds my screaming body.
the mind stays strapped to
the foam of an
inviting mattress.
the soul cannot move.
I know these days . . .
mentally, I’m challenged,
and freeing myself from
the depths of this dark
space is often harder
than I’d like.
bedbound for the morning,
I watch news of Western NC
as cities lay underwater,
roads are washed away, my
friend’s brand new home
drowns before her eyes.
food and supplies have to be
air-dropped to designated
places.
“these are the last days.”
I turn over to reach
for someone to hold
and forget, momentarily,
that I live alone.
hurricane Helene
pummeled us
with her windy waves
power outages
reported
all throughout the state
advised to be safe
we found peace
safely in our homes
To those of you who rode out the harshest storm in years, it is my prayer that you are safe and sound of mind as well. Peace and blessings.
like Nas’ “It Ain’t Hard To Tell“,
when we spot each other
in a room full of our
workmates, we fight to get
to that hug we’ve been
missing–that embrace that
saddles us with contentment.
we fight for the purity of touch.
I know you. you know me.
we broke down walls to be
able to say, “She’s whole
without being halved.”
we have the drop on
one another but we’ll never
use it.
I am counting down the days
until I see you again.
until I get to hear that
Flint, Michigan accent with a sprinkle
of the Deep South swirling
on your tongue.
maybe it’ll be the right time
to say, “Yes” to what we’ve
had to say “No” to for
so long.
or maybe I’m just living
through my fantasies
again–envisioning you as the
key to my heart’s happiness.
or maybe, we’re treading
lightly because the heavy waves
are getting heavier and we
need these damn jobs.
we’ve been cautious for years.
and there’s no cat and mouse
with us–we’re simply plagued
by curiosity and frozen from
impending corporate damage.
how long will we be able to
hold up our end of the
bargain before we have to
surrender?
are we willing to battle
in the wars of political correctness for the honor
of true love?
am I?
*Background music: It Ain’t Hard Tell instrumental, produced by The Large Professor
A Cornered Gurl 
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