Sunday, August 30, 2009

poem for solitude/my sacred space (this love burns in effigy)

for two brothers who've made my day...less.

black men.
brothas.
kings.
in this night, i have no words.
don't seek em either/my mouth is weary of speaking energy into you.
my soul is weary of expressing vibrations.
this giving must pause before my breath of life is weary...

i cannot find the words to say where i am now.
all i know is i am spent.
done with
exhausted of
have no tolerance for
no space to accept
the lesser-than i been given by too many black men
/whom i love, honor and respect for just being.

tonight, i have no capacity for love poems.

3 comments:

Anna said...

thanks for sharing, I love this.

Anonymous said...

This was beautiful. I could really relate to this. Thank you for sharing it.

Unknown said...

I stumbled upon this and I love it... Getting weary in the struggle; search for brothas that share our sentiments and that are fond of the possibility of expressing themselves and the kings within them. The chaos of this world has a lot of them lost and the question his who carries the heaviest load?