Born and raised with tough skin, we don’t cracks, cracking sounds of the pot, we reach for the cover to prevent water from overspilling to feed the thirsty ground. This year too the water has not come and like every year we put our prayer in our back pocket and in these rough time times we put them out, and blow on them hoping like seeds they will scatter and bud a future for hungry minds and stomachs.  These prayers are our hope. By water we grow, by water we build, by water we birth. We walk the mile to the empty field single file. Led by the children, the sounds of their rumbling stomachs match the beats of the elders’ footsteps, the women’s  subdued voices a soothing breeze in the dry heat. Single filed, the women march  continued, toward to field all with one word in their heart: tomorrow.


collective prayers

I will be the morning star on rainy days for my loves

the song that brings all joy to the surface

a strong force of solidarity for those who need it

the voice for the silence d

the cool air that comforts you when you feel alone

and a warm embrace after a long hard day

an embrace that hold tights and never falters

The ink

stuck between languages

I see you

the beauty

a tongue saturated with love…..

radical they would call it

so fresh, i am unable to pronounce their names without a moan,

confirmation of bodies melting  into sweetness on my tongue

I carry with care and fire



words so delicate…..tender….fierce

life changing,

With a glaze

my tongue screams in ecstasy

so little time

red , orange, yellow

Veins on fire,

a smile

the imprint


a kiss on the tips of my lip,

mouth open, breathing in the rhythm of our ancestors,

sweet music to my pallet

Slowly grazing on uneven on land


as we reach, tongues on tongues, this is what it feel like to hunger and be fed

holding we savor every tips, the caress a reminder of the warmth of the sun


heighten with care




A-life to carry

—-To the women who with words, breathed like into vessels and made warriors into lovers day by day… Thank you

Grand-mama’s Laughter

abstract thoughts


unsure of how to hold 

trace of skin hanging

pink meat on white bones

black faces


thirsty for knowledge

we spin in circle

a heart beat

in the dead beat city

the graves of our ancestors

chased ,

we jumped

higher, harder


believing  agency was a word we inherited

inked in our skin

forgetting to look back to cords

 noose tied to the house

us the foundation


we jumped high

longing for the feeling of the quiet rumble,

the sounds after the tornado has taken

our eyes

to notice

the hot air sipping

 sewn lips, bony hands grinding to dust a future

half- awake

from her hollowed belly 

Higher and Harder

we jumped into the rumble

for a taste

of her voice

the sadistic lover

When they talk of love

darkness envelopes you

you bleed into paper tears dripping on feathers

slow as the kiss of death

when they talk of love

you shrink back into a star

bright you flicker

as you bleach your heart into salt

when they talk of an ever ending love

you run on clipped wings

flapping soundless as a thief

tripping and flying

when they talk of a failed love

you stand arrogant shaking your hips

to a tune from your sculpted mouth

you twirl life a leaf in bliss about to mate with the sun

you carve the smirk into your soul with super glue

when they turn to you for comfort

you take their nimble hands into your eyes sockets and let the tears drown them

your clothes permeated with bitter dark chocolates and blue rainbows

you hug them close while you watch them sink with a smirk

the dreamer

i am filled

with the possibility of fear unsure of how to move, of how to breathe, yet with the rise of the sun i become a master performer, one foot in front of the other taking note of the rise of the chest, i move in slow agony plowing through life

not a dreamer i settle for the sleepless night, eyes glued to the blue walls unable to whisper a prayer into my thirsty hands

i lay wide awake

the need to cry grabs and holds me captive

all is well is well,

all is well and the breaking commences, the hands attentive to the need to collect every single laughter into a bottle


nothing rises. nothing sounds

so i turn to face you and watch as you attempt to dream with the restlessness of youth and i become a prisoner to your black curls

this life hurts to breathe into, the pockets sagging with each rejection, you begin to think the world’s air is polluted, and begin to wonder what would your dream taste like, will there be a hint of spice to highlight the need for a breath?

Living Moments

  1. that sounds like a personal issue
  2. pay off your loans
  3. there is always a better deal somewhere else
  4. you have to move and God will walk alongside you
  5. keep on moving
  6. if you can not find something nice to say about each other, it is time to leave
  7. if you love them. But you dont love yourself, take a pause always
  8. what does it feel like to sleep with the oppressor?
  9. if you wake up and you have nothing to laugh about, that too is okay
  10. i do not want to live my life wondering where i come from when i could just pack and sit by my grandmother’s side
  11. it is okay to have regrets and it is also okay to forgive yourself
  12. remember that there people who hold you dear and that it is okay to love them back
  13. you can not make a home in people,
  14. i do not have time to spend chasing cold beds and sleepless nights, i have me to deal with and I am more than enough
  15. i am heavy in every sense  and I will not cut myself to fit into your mouth
  16. i do not date boys who are in search for mothers. These tubes are tied.
  17. there are people who will carry you on your back but not I. Ever
  18. you never have enough shoes. JK!
  19. i don’t need a lot of people to be happy, i need friends who know the magic of dark nights and cutting tongues
  20. i am in love with women who love themselves who teach me how to love myself
  21. every move i make is a blessing and your presence is not needed in order for me to breathe
  22. do not be fooled by their silence, the silence about the body is costing them
  23. to the boy who said you turn me on, and looked shocked when i said i do not feel the same way, this too is a learning moment for the both of us. Yes, I can choose myself today and all the days to come.  And that is okay
  24. my tights can not teach you how to stay..  so they are not open
  25. if he is woke but does not move. It is simple, i can move and have been doing so for years- the packing
  26. my love cost heavily but is so worth it
  27. i do not know how to give half of myself so i do not
  28. black women have been failed over and over again and i will not fail myself
  29. how can we live without a purpose?
  30. what is home?
  31. it is okay to desire the rough and the soft of your own choosing
  32. so what if he is gay and moved to live his life? why do you feel the need to pet yourself on the back by saying but it is not like i have a problem. who cares, he did not care about your opinions and so left and in doing so he chose himself
  33. talking about women’s right and fighting for women rights does not make me an angry woman but simply one who see the world around her and acknowledges that her body matters
  34. we do not choose to be depressed, depression is not something we make up so we can collect our daddy paychecks. #misconspections
  35. yes, you can run with intent and in this there can be peace, hope and your full self present