BLACK OWNED BUSINESS
I know you want me to focus but I can’t
I ordered a candle weeks ago
I saw the little Black boys who reminded me of
My little Black boy
Their own business, the ad said
It was exciting to imagine the tenderness
Black boys who want to make candles
To make the house “smell good”
Things people tell you boys don’t care about
Raising mine, I’m sure they do
But yes, you want me to focus
To get back to work
But I can’t stop thinking about those candles
You see, I ordered them weeks ago
They are taking so, so long
I can’t focus because my candles are delayed
Delayed because those little Black boys
Who wanted to start their own business
Can’t expand their business
Because
A white man in the industrial park where their expansion could happen
Is racist. Vile and racist.
And so,
I will wait more days for my candle and will order a few more
Because my focus is disrupted because Black boys
Have to fear for their lives while making candles
How can I focus on anything but that?
the help
You shared your story
Excited about community
“I did it” you said
Dear friend,
Black woman.
Brilliantly blessed.
You did it.
I know you did because you told me.
I believe you.
But when I looked at the article, white faces were all I saw.
It looks like they did it.
I thought
Where is my friend?
She did it.
She told me she did and I believe her.
But there is no space for her.
No mention.
She helped.
No, she did it. But you would never know because
The white people who should have told you
Did not.
HOME AGAIN
I missed you
You were gone for a while this time
Slipped into that dark space where your mind feels like the white noise on the tv
Quiet but noisy
Visually overwhelming
Chaotic but no energy or output
But you are back now
Slipping down into layers of yourself
Shadows you keep tucked behind
Closed bedroom doors to hide the mess
But here you are, home
Please don’t forget how light you feel the next time those layers seem inviting
They change you
Grow you, even
But they aren’t truly home
Home is balanced
Sweet
Peaceful and peaceable
Running barefoot in the backyard laughing until your cheeks hurt
Home is you, I, me, we
And I’m so glad you’re back here
Because I need you to be you, so we can be
Free
Home. Free.
NO LIMIT
It is difficult to stay angry with you but I should
No boundaries
You spill all over the place
Traces of you touching everything, anybody
Confusing your sharing of your deepest scars as transparency
Cloaked as vulnerability
But you got that part wrong
Because you refuse to put up any fences
Boundaries that keep us in, others out
That protects the fleshy part of our souls
You refuse to establish them
And all those who are within a mile can feel it
You take up so much space but feel so small
I can see it
Can’t imagine the pain that makes you think you have to spill all over the place like that I mean.. really.....
No limit
Someone told you that was brave but I’m not sure why
Highlighting your scars, baring your pain, means nothing if you refuse to negotiate with how that impacts your current behavior
And I foolishly believed you were sharing that because I did something to be deserving of your trust
But you have no boundaries
You tell anyone who will listen
Spilling all over the place
I would say a mess but that’s not complete
More like an oil spill in an ocean
A mess can often be cleaned up
Sometimes without a trace
But an oil spill alters the ecosystem
Even though it is surface
Even though they never belonged together
Oil and water
Together. Forever different for the connection
One has no value and one is forever damaged for the union
So how can you forget about being angry about something as toxic as an oil spill?
Because
In that spilling all over the place, taking up all the air
I realized that you are desperately trying to breathe
Or should I say
Saying that you are resuscitating me but instead attempting to take my air
Shouldn’t you be upset with someone who would suffocate you in their attempt to breathe?
Isn’t that anger worthwhile?
So why do I feel so guilty
Hating a person who can’t breathe.