She gripped the rim of the porcelain sink and tried to steady her hands
“One last time,” she whispered to herself.
One. Last. Time
Before the banging came on the door and startled her. This has been going on for 10 years. 10 years too many. She wanted out, She needed out. By any means necessary.
“Get out here,” his angry voice projected through the door.
She jumped again at the sound out it.
“Just a minute,” she yelled while taking one last look at her bruise covered body in the mirror and adjusting the object in her mouth.
Opening the door, she was greeted by the slap she felt time and time again. So used to it, she was now numb to the feeling.
“What took you so long,” he grabbed her, “you think you leaving me?”
With her head down she whispered she was just getting fresh for him. Walking over to the bed, she felt his eyes on her so she put an extra sway in her hips before lowering to her knees and waiting for him. He had conditioned her to be his submissive.
Standing over her, she felt him pat her head as if she was a trained dog before laying on the bed and saying, “good girl, you may please me now.”
This time she would be the one pleased in the end.
Climbing on top of him, she began kissing him slowly while rubbing him just the way he liked. When she saw his eyes close she knew it was time to make her move.
Leaning in to place a final kiss on his neck, she slid the blade between her teeth and swiped as hard as she could tasting the blood in the process.
His eyes shot open as he clutched his throat attempting to stop the blood. She began laughing hysterically as she sliced his body over and over with the blade now in her hand. His body and hers were drenched in blood, but with no movement coming from him she knew she was free.
Free from the beatings and mental abuse.
Closing her eyes she felt at peace. Peace that ended at the banging of a hand on the door.
Opening her eyes she was back at the sink clutching it to steady her hands.
I just want the world to know my name like Basquiat or Kara Walker
Minus the graffiti and silhouettes
Stun the world with abstract visions until they think I’ve done my best
Then tell em I ain’t done yet
Putting my paint brush down for a pen
Creating message after message
Planting seeds to help my people win
Because you see,
One day on common ground we must all meet
It’s enough out here for everyone to eat
We not the crabs in the bucket
We’re the Kings and Queens
With the heart of the lion and lioness
Broken free from the chains
Destined for greatness
Like the ancestors that left writings on the walls
Our actions will do the same for those next in line
And after I’m gone and my many greats say my name
It’ll be followed by words such as this:
My many many Great-Grandmother was an artist. She created abstract visions that stunned the world like Basquiat and Kara Walker. Minus the graffiti and silhouettes of course. When she wasn’t painting she was writing. Some would describe her as woke and others would say passionate. A conversation with her was always full revolutionary topics and funny jokes, but at the end of the day she was for her people and the people are for her. So when I say her name, I say it pride. Be a use of her, I come from greatness and now the world knows her name.