Mornings With You

Artist Unknown

I remember early mornings

Eating home cooked breakfast

Smoked jowl, rice, and biscuits

Sitting at the table watching you fix my plate

Getting lost in the taste

But stopping at the sight of you

Across from me

Dark Afro hair

Smooth brown skin

Round face

That hang under your chin

My attention always went to that hang

That would shake every time you took a bite

Oh how I miss that sight

How I miss

Early mornings

At the table

Eating home cooked breakfast

With you

Not My Independence Day

As the colorful display lights the sky

And God Bless America plays

Take a moment to remember

Remember that on this day

A day that many people celebrate

It is also a day that not everyone can relate

Relate to the feeling of pride and freedom

Love for a battle won

That battle won was only for some

Those melanated Kings and Queens were still

In chains

Destined to sacrifice for another 2 years

And years to come as the physical became mental prisons and modern day lynchings

Replace the plantation with projects

Slave masters with white supremacists with a badge

Throw in the school to prison pipeline

and most importantly

Separate the King’s from the Queens

As long as they are not together America shall have its freedom

After all 3/5ths of a person couldn’t possibly need freedom

So yes, let the fireworks shower across the sky and God Bless America play

As we celebrate NOT MY INDEPENDENCE DAY

Letter To America

America…

Hello,

I am fed up.

Fed up with being expected to lead your battles

While staying silent for mine.

Mine that consist of the countless black men and women fallen victim to senseless Killings by police officers.

*Pause*

This is the part where someone says, “Melanin, black on black crime is a thing.”

Honey, of course black on black crime is a thing.

What do you expect in a neighborhood that is predominantly black?

Just like in white neighborhoods.

Now let me tell you the difference.

The spotlight is on the black neighborhoods.

Why?

Because the hood is a project,

The project is a trap,

In the words of A1 Juug Trap Lives Matter.

In the eyes of the creator of the trap

Trap lives don’t matter.

Insert the flooding of drugs and weapons being used to turn the hood to a war zone.

Destined to kill the rose that grew from concrete,

But how can you stop the rose from growing back

When the roots are embedded deep in the soil?

You can’t.

Just like you cannot continue to expect us to be silent,

While watching our brothers, sisters, and children’s lives be taken.

Although silence is golden,

That silence ends now.

When The Mask Comes Off

Photo Obtained from Pinterest. Artist is : Laurie Cooper

The façade has ended

The person you created is gone

The one I’m truly intended

To be has arrived

I gave you all of me

And you still couldn’t see

The damage done over time

Digging deep inside

I cried out for help

I begged you to stop

Let me be

And set me free

But like a bird you caged me

Determined not to let me sing

The trauma you inflicted

Has been evicted

I have found my voice

Now you must listen

As I unburden my truth

When the mask comes off

Who Will Mourn Me When I’m Gone

Artist Unknown

Who will mourn me when I’m gone?

Surely not the ones who take me for granted.

Not the ones that want nothing, but also everything.

Everything to the point where I have nothing left.

Not even an ounce of care for self health.

My mind and body are both tired.

Tired to the point of giving up.

Walking away with nothing else to say.

After all, what could there to be said?

How are you feeling?

Is it anything you need?

What can I do for you?

No, nothing like that could be said.

Except from a few.

The ones that genuinely care.

The ones that want nothing in return but for me to be me.

While the rest leave me to feel nothing but unappreciation.

So I am left to wonder again,

Who will mourn me when I’m gone?

Blog: Justice For Elijah McClain

Elijah McClain’s last words to officers

Who is Elijah McClain?

Elijah McClain

Elijah McClain was a 23 year old massage therapist. Everything I have read about him screams gentle. On his lunch break he would play the violin for the kittens in the pet shop next door. He ran in barefoot running shoes because he felt it was more natural. Many of the runners I’ve spoken with in the past have voiced similar things. He was anemic and could be found even in the summer time wear layers of clothes and a runners mask due to being cold. That I can also find true because I have a son that’s anemic. He taught himself how to play the guitar and violin. HE TAUGHT HIMSELF! So what could he have done that would’ve been so wrong to cause him death?

Summary of what I’ve read about his death…

Police received a call about a person acting suspicious flailing their arms and wearing a ski mask. The caller also reported that he didn’t appear to be a threat and did seem to have a weapon. So basically an unnecessary welfare check? How did that in turn lead to his death?

When officers arrived, orders to stop were not responded to. Why was that? Because he was wearing headphones! He couldn’t possibly comply if he did not hear the orders. Once he did notice and proceeded to turn down his music to hear, it was too late. The feeling of “disrespect” had already been planted. Now a need for authority had to be shown.

For 15 MINUTES the officers had him in a hold that applied pressure to his carotid artery. For 15 MINUTES he begged, pleaded, and even complimented the officers. All to no avail. They still applied pressure to the point he began to vomit. Then EMT’s gave him a shot of ketamine (sedative) because he was determined to be “agitated”. Who wouldn’t be? Then to make matters worse, the dose he was given was for a 220 LB. man. Elijah weighed 140 lbs. This lead to him going into cardiac arrest not once, but twice before later being declared brain dead.

Final Thoughts

I am sadden, I am heartbroken, and I have shed tears for this young man that did not deserve what has happened to him. I’ve seen pictures and watched the video where he was filled with happiness while indeed wearing layers of clothing as friends and family described. I also can’t help but to wonder again, how many others we still have not heard about. Especially when Elijahs life was taken almost a year ago and we are just now hearing about it. WE NEED JUSTICE FOR ELIJAH NOW!

Daughter To Mother

Photo obtained from Pinterest. Artist Unknown

Can I talk to you for a minute?

I mean really talk to you.

And for once just listen.

Listen to the words as they flow from my lips.

Hold them to the highest priority like an alter to the ancestors.

May they bless our bond after this moment.

A moment that is a long time coming.

There is so much I have wanted to say to you.

I’m sorry life has not always been kind to your feelings.

I’m sorry it made you shut off your love from the world.

As a child I needed that.

I needed it badly, but you could not give it.

At least, not in the way that I needed.

For a while I was angry.

I wondered if I was just unlovable. Now that I know it wasn’t my fault, I forgive you.

I forgive him too.

The man that hurt you.

My father.

You both knew no better,

And in order to heal

I have to let go.

Let go of the doubt and self destruction.

Now I am happy.

Happy that I can say the things and feel the things I never felt.

My children are happy as well.

They deserve that.

Happiness.

Love.

As my mother, you do too.

But you continue to reject it.

That’s okay.

If no one ever tells you or you continue to

Harden your shell.

Just know that how I felt back then

Is how I feel now.

I love you….

Short Story: The Murder of William “Froggie” James

Cairo, IL.

November 11, 1909- Cairo, IL. 

William “Froggie” James was a dashing young man. Tall and dark with a body full of muscles. Many women wanted him, but he only had eyes for his Sandra. They had been together for some time now and would be getting married soon. 

Walking down the streets of Cairo, IL, he was filled with such pride. Black people had come a long way, but still had a ways to go. White folks still had a short fuse just looking for someone to blow up on. He made sure to steer clear of them when he could. 

As he came upon a building, he heard a scream. Something told him to keep walking, but it was a woman and he didn’t want to leave her helpless. As he got ready to go inside, his friend Alexander came barreling out, almost knocking him over and continued up the road.  Venturing inside he saw feet from someone on the ground that eventually revealed a young white woman. Fear filled him like never before and he dashed away from there. 

Once he made it home, he slammed the door as his love came out of the kitchen. 

“What’s wrong,” she rushed to him when she noticed the look on his face. 

“I found,” he struggled to get his words out, “white girl dead.”

Sandra felt a chill come over her, “Did anybody see you?”

He merely shook his head no. 

“Good,” she started to pace, “You didn’t do it right?”

“Of course I didn’t,” he yelled at the top of his lungs.

“We have to get out of town.” She started gathering their belongings. 

William frowned, “I did nothing wrong!”

“You think they care!” She shouted. 

Just then loud knocking came at the door. 

“Come on out William,” they heard the voice of the well known sheriff. 

“I didn’t do it,” William said as he opened the door. 

The sheriff had been kind to him many times. 

“People say they saw you running away from where a girl was found dead,” the sheriff pulled out his cuffs, “It’s better for me to take you in now before anyone else comes after you.”

William took a look a Sandra, “Stay here and don’t let anyone in.”

Tears fell as she watched them drive off. Dark clouds hung over the town. Destruction was coming. 

Just as the sheriff was booking in William, a mob had formed outside. They were demanding that William be released to them for revenge. 

Not knowing what else to do, the Sheriff snuck out the back and drove William out of town. He hoped to stay there until things calmed down. That never happened. 

In the middle of the night, they heard rumbling where they were hiding before seeing a group of men. 

“Hand him over Sheriff,” one of them said. 

Before the sheriff could grab his weapon, they had him at gunpoint while others dragged William away screaming. 

He was dragged all the way back to town, “Please! I didn’t do it!”

His words fell on deaf ears. That night the town seemed to destroy William and whoever else they could unleash their rage upon. 

See as there was no getting through to them he yelled, I did it and Alexander took the lead!”

He knew the right person would hear the message in his confession. 

William was dragged through the town square as people hit him and called him names. In the center, there was a noose tied around his neck as not the men, but the women pulled the rope. After he was hung, his body was riddled with bullets before the people cut pieces of his body for souvenirs. Then as they were finally satisfied, they placed his head on a light pole and set it on fire. 

With all this going on, no one noticed Sandra standing in the background. Filled with rage, she embraced the ways of her ancestors. Her grandmother had taught her many years ago that she would know when to use her special gifts. 

Calling on her ancestors, she placed her hands on the ground, “Ancestors, feel the innocent blood spilled here today. The blood of my love. He did not deserve this and neither did the ones before him. I declare today, until all wrongs are righted, there will never be peace. For as long as innocent blood is spilled, these streets shall forever crumble. Take the peace and take Alexander.”

The streets shook as a scream could be heard in the distance. That scream belonged to Alexander being dragged away before the mob even thought to look for him. Sandra walked off into the night away from the town never wishing to return. Now cracks fill the streets of the town and no matter how many times they fix them, they still crumble. 

Note: Cairo, IL. is my hometown. Although I put a twist of love in the story, William “Froggie” James was an actual person that was lynched for the murder of a white girl there in 1909. Many of us resident have been taught the story. He maintained his innocence and just before his hanging, he admitted and said a man named Alexander helped. That man was never found. Many say that because of all the bad that happened there, the streets are cursed and indeed are filled with cracks no matter how many times they were fixed. Let me know your thoughts in the comments as if you have heard of this story. I hope you like the sprinkle of love and fantasy I placed in it.

When Our Children Call Him Father

I love you Mister. Happy Fathers Day 💜.

I never had mine in my life,

But when I looked into the eyes of the man I love and agreed to marriage I knew I was making one of the best decisions as a wife.

My children would have something that we both never had,

A dad.

He is dependable,

He is strong,

He is comforting,

He is providing,

But most importantly he is present.

His presence is one of the best gifts he can give.

So he makes sure it’s felt,

Everyday that he lives.

Being the strong silent type, trying to express his words could seem like a bother,

But you should see the way his eyes light up

When our children call him father.