Hi, Family!
In honor of National Poetry Month, I made a goal to share a poem or spoken word piece each week. Well, last week, I feel off the rocker, so I’m posting one tonight and another on Sunday!
The piece below was written exactly one year ago in February while contemplating the past and present sacrifices made in my culture. Thanks in advance for reading it!
I SALUTE YOU
For every elder that was asked “How many bubbles are in a bar of soap?” before casting their vote
I stand for you.
Hold my head up high and walk into work every day for you.
Go to class and flash my smile and say “Yes, I’m here” for you.
For my sisterfriend on the verge of killing cancer dead in its tracks
Intelligence questioned by White men, assuming her competence is thin and porous
For every train car that clickety-clacked with Pullman porters, chins up and hands out in superior service
I stand for you.
This isn’t just Black History to me. This is a perpetual ceremony where you are the guests of honor.
I get the privilege of cooling in your shadows, walking in your footsteps, glowing in your Sonlight, basking in your love for my future.
For every lash received with outstretched arms and naked backs
I proudly stand for you.
Clap my hands, hoot and holla any day for you, because you did what so few could do.
You kept clocking in when they spit on you.
Breastfed their children when they wouldn’t feed you.
Sang and danced like a beautiful Black angel when they wouldn’t even pay you.
You lived when they tried to kill you.
I stand for you.
Grandma, washing clothes of White families over the mountain, feet filled with fatigue
In fatigues, Grandpa called “boy” while lacing up his combat boots getting ready for war
Fighting for rights that didn’t see the light of day… back home
Accepting substandard pay and being told to comb your hair
Swallowing your pride and pushing down your voice
Diluting who you are to match someone else’s choice
Being a superhero for your children when you were just treated like a child
Making me smile after a long hard day
Washing my socks on your hands before Sunday morning
Dressing me like a chocolate doll and telling me I’m beautiful
Even though you couldn’t afford to buy your food
You will never be forgotten.
I appreciate you.
I stand for you.
I salute you.
Forever, and ever…
Amen.
***
The Magic City Poetry Festival is going strong here. Check out their events and read about the founder of the festival who is also first Black and youngest poet laureate of Alabama. How cool is that? I salute you, Ashley M. Jones.
Peace & Thanks for listening! 🙂
Listening at the Speed of Life 