Blooming
She had created something beautiful — at least, to a fresh eye she was sure it would be, but to her these bloated buds were decay even when bursting into bloom, in that moment when they were all potential and wonder.
The Great Deceiver
The Great Deceiver has fractured the histories and culture / That weave our realities / But once we realize our neighbors are no kaleidoscope images / Disjointed from just poor choices and bad judgements / We can mirror our hopes and dreams
at last, the gods
how do we wear our sadness? / will we burn? and will the Earth? / will water rain down to save us? / is it too late? and is it too late? / is it now forever too late?
British Relic
“And this was a club they let Indians in since inception.” His appreciation for what he thought a privilege was immense. “Shall I order tea for you?” He chose to cash that privilege in the form of tea.
A Saint Elmo Fire
A sign says Condemned, / but memories are still dwelling there- / the stench from a white hood / and sheet robe, once a dingy white, now / burned black / in the bottom of the Tennessee family’s cedar chest. / A sign says Do Not Enter / yet it does not stop the ancient spirits,
You Are No Longer Welcome Here
Most of your parents were taught by their parents but now those teachings which they ought to pass down to you have eroded because you prefer the white man’s culture. I am not saying the white man’s culture is bad. No, the white man’s culture has paved the way for us, but charity begins at home.
Bygone Mama
“I was a dog licking sand / and eating maggots wherever I saw. / I bore in tens and tens / and rubbed my face with / the blood of my uterus / when my pups became merchandise.”
The Tale of Alkebulan
The oceans sailed them back to the wealth of their African roots. / Today, no land dares offend or take her natural wealth for granted. / They no longer hold summits or video conferences to pressure her. / They no longer offer bribes for her fall or assume she is corrupted.
In Xalapa, I Practice Yoga as Maria Cleans Around Me
What I sacrifice for the freedom to travel: / pension, health plan, a living wage. / I’m considered casual. / Maria is called informal. / We both know what we really are: disposable.
Night Watch
That Saturday, two evenings later, the village carried on with their usual routine of cleaning up, gossiping, and chasing down the children for their baths while an underlying nervousness floated from house to house. It had been two nights of quiet and no thieves, but this encroaching night felt different, especially with the elderly Ramatu.
Sonics
let’s take the word / scream / scream, screamed, / have screamed, / were screaming, / will scream, / are screaming, / be screamed / as in scream / me a nightmare / as in Soweto, South Africa / in the mid-nineteen seventies
People of Rice: Carolina Gold
everything / that was taken I seek to take / into my body and the salt of grief / salt of blood salt of the wide Atlantic / to eat, swallow, trying to remember all / that I have never known, / the dark germ, the winnowed husk
France Isn’t a Racist Country
“Hey, can you come in and audition for Suburban Arabic Girl Number Four? Basically, you’re with your homies in the subway, and you make a fuss, start yelling at people, throwing things around!”
The Painter
Then I gazed at the rich, brown texture of a watercolor on the page, / a man’s tortured face, his beard, his tough glowing bronze skin. / You said it was a portrait of your brother, / who died overseas during a rain of fire in the Viet Nam war.
Sometimes We Dream
Our grandparents sit us down and teach us where we come from: Africa, enslavement, Jim Crow. Our parents tell us where it’s safe to travel and where our brown skin makes us targets. Fear infects our dreams.
the Decolonial Passage 