free people. by princess bethea

free people.

by all accounts, i should be a Free Person. we should be Free People. but - always a but. Freedom is in constant jeopardy of slipping away, being taken away, or even given away. Freedom is a verb. it must be acted on, demanded, renewed, revitalized, and lived throughout Our Entire Life. Freedom is a Fight. free people. is the third contribution in a series of free poetry: free love. and free spirit. free people. is divided into four sections: then, now, tomorrow, and forever. a combination of new and old poetry. personal thoughts and quoted gems. my hope is that this book brings you that much closer to Freedom. or that much closer to identifying the chains that weigh you down. i dedicate free people. to my grandmother: Mrs. Dorethea Grice Bethea because there are no chains holding her. peace, princess

I went to pay my respects to Crispus Attucks this week. - me in Boston a few years ago "They buried us, but they didn't know we were seeds." - Mexican Proverb.

â&#x20AC;&#x153;There are people who dislike you because you do not dislike yourself.â&#x20AC;? - Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

Lord, help me to be a healer even as I seek my own wholeness.

then: 4

ode to the coldest winter ever.

the god-awful wilderness.

you start to understand why roots grow underground birds fly south and words go un-said winter has been known to freeze life into place and people get stuck in the ice inside their heart still alive, beating breathing but not moving and i needed room to spread to grow to fly because when i don’t the earth shakes, the trembles tear down our walls and the destruction is massive it is the consequence of breakthrough in harsh conditions so the deepest apologies i extend to my tragedies over the last few months but i am far from done

the Israelites wandered the desert for 40 years and we’ve been suspicious Africans in America for nearly 400 death, inevitable, but life, a choice for freed people given a promised land that doesn’t include the three blocks between home and the corner store some people say we’ve come so far that maybe we’ve finally made it but the wilderness has always been dark always unwelcoming with gated neighborhoods, the good schools with the basketball scholarships false protections from the new pharaoh but Here - fearful people do evil things and the innocent suffer most as a reminder that we are still an ill generation of corruption and hate wandering the Earth all because God won’t save us and Obama’s hope isn’t strong enough to part these seas of division Jesus didn’t want to die so what makes Trayvon and Sean Troy and Oscar are any different

i predict this spring there will be an uprisin’.

our tribulation and deliverance seems to be two sides of the same coin but who is holding the change? who is tired of wandering circles?

have you ever experienced that? sobbing over a movie, or a song heartbroken by a few verses in a poem?

new music from Baghdad and Boston. On April 15, 2013, at least 31 people were killed and more than 200 others wounded in a series of early-morning explosions in cities across Iraq.

now think about students on their way to school in Baghdad and families torn apart on what was supposed to be one of the best days of their lives -and drop a dope beat to that sorrow compose a play paint a mural on the side of your home so that your guests can feel what you felt yesterday forever

On April 15, 2013, at least 3 people were killed and over 100 injured in Boston as result of two bomb explosions at the annual Boston Marathon.

after this, Bostonians will sound different don't let the american bravado fool you, they're terrified and this flavor of fear is best found in Middle Eastern art culture and food. filled with beauty lined with defense the pain of a deflated passion bitterly found after sacrificing your fake illusion of safety of might winning over right the old symphony of heroics played against terror bounce off stray shrapnel in a city that once heralded, celebrated the coming of war with drumbeats for our forefathersâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; freedom and liberty but yesterday, the melody of screams was enough to make the world weeps.

the song of April 15, 2013 will end with the news coverage and some other noise will take its place but Bostonians will begin to sound more and more like Iraqis and Syrians and Afghans and New Yorkers and Oklahomans and

a poem for a fact.

survivors. “Illness sets the stage for the opening of our hearts.” - Judith Orloff

perhaps stating this fact in a poem will stop the whitewashing of the Civil Rights Movement:

"Praise to the power that cancer could not take."

Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated. The FBI, the CIA, the U.S. Army, and the Memphis Police Department were all later found guilty as co-conspirators in his murder.

when cancer forms it invariably produces no symptoms but fear

*insert finger snaps here*

the great imitator making it difficult painful to swallow their encouragement and 3-mile races with ribbons “you don’t look sick” because the symptoms show up in other ways like being too tired to read your child a book or too weak to ride tricycles today cancer often spreads from its original site then it’s impossible not to consider death everything is dying your hair, his marriage her dreams, their future

our fathers, grandsons, mothers

this land is our land. for Robert Sobukwe, Nelson Mandela, and the Islanders

the vast majority of cancers are non-hereditary considered sporadic

you must dig beneath the pain beneath the limestone and lies of their prison you must dig uncover the truth of Black diamonds buried beaten murdered in the townships you must dig to reach the sun again to sing again Robert you must dig inside your own soul and hide when they come to torture your mind - dig dig to Soweto dig to South Carolina find a way out to police stations to parliament to Freedom with your blistered hands - dig and chained feet - dig in the midnight hour with no light no food no faith no love leave the constraints of this cell, your country, yourself and dig up Hope dig up Home dig up Africa.

even though your family suffers your family is not well your family is the first treatment your family is the best prognosis your family is the prevention of the end of your life which is different from the end of cancer your families' love for you won't ever end when our lives are changed forever when lives are left that need care you can look to the survivors and we are all survivors.

don’t apologize to anyone stand up and take this opportunity let them see our dark flesh let them hear the vibrations of the Earth as a dark girl takes their breath and power away this Jesus didn't do justice to the telling of Life that flows beneath a black woman’s skin let's write our own parables paint portraits of our sisters’ bodies with all the shades found in the evening sky here is where the Creator sat the planets, the moon and the stars on the backs of our hands - a canvas our smile - a muse honey, what they don't want of us God uses and God uses you.

the dark girl loves for my daughter; because I won’t be there when it happens

two things happen: I. fear because in their own darkness your presence is blinding II. and out of fear, ridicule because they will know ugliness exists inside them so fear not and show them Love child. take three breaths and call Oshun, hike your skirt up and show those slender black legs, adorn your body and mind like Zora release your hair and your thick lips, speak to them don’t be afraid to take on the essence of uppity black women call on Madame Walker take the a lesson from Oprah Michelle, and Alice take notes and practice Angela’s slogan – and say it loud

now turn to the Book of Solomon and say to him that we are dark and beautiful. turn to the world and say to them that we are dark and beautiful. then turn to yourself and say that You are dark and beautiful. ashe and amen.

--------------

because there will be a moment were your skin color will define your destiny

“Dark am I, yet lovely...” - Song of Solomon 1:5 NIV The Biblical Story of Solomon’s Love for a Shulamite Girl.

“We should teach our girls this phrase: What did you mean by that? It’s a subtle way to hold people accountable and a way to teach our girls that sitting in discomfort is not a gender prerequisite.” - Penny Middleton

People are complicated. I have always loved the benediction: May the Lord watch between me and you while we are absent one from another. It used to bother me when a friend went ghost (i.e. stop talking to me). Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;d come up with all these scenarios as to why it was my or their fault. But eventually, I learned to lean on this benediction and wish them and myself Peace. It's tough though. I really miss some of my homies.

loss.

technical support. for jada

((here. may we hold space for the freedoms that are gone forever.))

when i was sixteen my cell phone looked more like a tv remote and if we followed celebrities it was from their top picks in word up! magazine before instagram and twitter there were notes passed across mr. martin’s class or found in my locker after lunch so i can’t wrap my mind around this age of adolescence where rape goes on facebook and kids think it's funny to hashtag tweet repost repeat jada passed out half-naked jada passed out half-naked jada passed out half-naked

each new day is a day without the freedom to call you i’m losing memories too where’s your favorite jean jacket at now the heat was way too strong from the flames for me to climb the stairs and grab it before smoke settled in my lungs and when did you actual die i know the ventilator ran for awhile and your heart is beating in some donor recipient’s chest

not that i'm from a perfect time but it was safe from the assault of assholes who use social media as a slicing and dicing tool of reputations for the victims to collect on their iPhone but i find that it’s not these devices we need to dismantle but the vices of rape culture and cyberbullying the sensationalism of sex and violence that people

but when were you Free i watched the whole thing burn right before my eyes i watched you perish right before my eyes time fades away while i’m still at a loss for words.

can hide on the internet making jokes about shit that just ainâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t funny

patriarchy. thank God for Good: fathers, grandfathers, stepfathers, brothers, uncles, cousins, neighbors, teachers, coaches, bosses, lovers, and friends.

honey, i donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t have your username but as your friend i would tag you in some Maya Angelou and because you've used your voice in outrage i'd share your page with Angela Davis they tried to kill your spirit go like Lucille Clifton and June Jordan follow survivors like Oprah Winfrey Gabrielle Union Fantasia Queen Latifah Mary J. Blige who stood in your shoes and kept going kept living you be that hashtag that keeps tweeting keeps posting you be that hashtag that goes viral, takeover you are not the problem with this world wide web of fucked up bullshit

thank God for Good Men.

you are the solution.

----------Jada went public with her story after boys posted photos of Jada drugged and posed naked on a bed. The photos went viral online, spawning the #Jadapose Twitter hashtag mocking her and creating mimics of her assault on social media.

loving a former sex slave. the photos of your adopt-sponsor-save an orphan child are all over your apartment poster board size so i insist we stay here most times i insist you not throw away all my meat girl i insist you find other ways to ease your mind and don’t smoke that shit at my place

you hop onto my countertop and eat a bowl of Froot Loops one color at a time first red then yellow then orange and green while purple and blue are saved for last the colors, more so then the flavors savored together

sometimes you have to. i’m no longer a stranger. like tonight when we remember your middle passage, because it’s all my fault you had to take a taxi here. like tonight is the same two-way radio, a truck, maybe a van and speedballing. they threw you inside quick so you didn’t get a good look. so you never look me in the eyes. so you never ride in a car with a strange man. so we won’t make love tonight. it reminds you of the cage where you never slept especially alone. and here with me, you’re still alone so you never let yourself cry even when want to-which you don’t

the blackness of the night comes into the room so i close the kitchen windows and i stare at you almost nude eating up all my food and plotting as you always do i decide whether or not i’ll stay up this time to see another break of day with you because you want sleep but you won’t sleep then neither will i.

then neither do i.

take flight.

someone must eat the dark. a re-write after last night

think back to the first crack unevenly separating the shell. interior finally exploding lacking room to grow

inside her there was a man each morning before she started school it hurts to know that what a 4 year old survived will kill you at 40

unconsciously stretched every second. changed forever, the noise of breakthrough startles the heart from sleep. from death. awaken, and glancing upon the light of day. all of the unprotected covering fully removed finally blown away with the whens of time

but someone must eat the dark. last night, she didnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t sleep because she was hungry like it or not we both come to bed empty begging to be filled so someone must eat the dark.

look there-Naked on a limb, clutching the scrawny branch with all of this dear new life ungracefully moving one wing. try the next, yet going nowhere

and i apologize if thereâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s no sunshine left today we got greedy and finished it off in misery.

just then rhythm rises from waves crashing against the shore echoing instructions from God Suddenly, the wings start to dance together move together with the oceanâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s breeze. a pair. on purpose. your world in unison. no pushing or shoving. simultaneously release. let go/this/instant your grip for flight. this is how it feels to be free, [the morning after/birth] my unsure butterfly.

â&#x20AC;&#x153;You're my sunshine for today." - my sister

Look at how quickly chaos grows. - me after visiting Germany & thinking about America “If you want blessings, be one.” - Anon What in the world does 'consent' even look like when your child is being forcibly taken away from you at the U.S. border? "Say do you mind signing this paper for us to medicate and sedate your kid!?" - my thoughts on the crisis at the U.S. Border “The Shook Ones: Umpires Reportedly Considering Boycott of Serena Williams' Matches” - article headline on The Root Sports

I thoroughly enjoy spending time with myself.

now: 17

wanting each other to see to touch to grasp love held captive in such a transparent casing -naked.

naked. we own but one thing body and bones and the skin

like how we entered. we lived. we left. we loved.

naked is the only birthright. you prefer me to wear nothing but socks and earrings and bracelets in bed then warm up to you cover you completely with pink cotton sheets my desires and blankets, soft kisses and long locs because naked is the worst type of cold being bare together was never a problem. weâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;d strip down to collarbones and nipples insecurities and scars to my pecan brown behind and the blackberry molasses mole on your right thigh we're exposed

make that moment tangible reach for the memories whenever i needed i tried to write

are you still writing? the question is asked as often as â&#x20AC;&#x153;how old are you now?â&#x20AC;? i heard that things would change but who knew it would happen like this

marriage with kids a mortgage with in-laws and baggage to unpack that's kept too close for any comfort at home these stories are mine to have, to hold. i tried to write to translate this experience into a new language of trust, a commitment a shared responsibility but i'd never seen my Life living outside my body before marrying her before watering the earth with the energy dripping from our love i tried to write

take poetry and hold it up against the glare of Adulthood: my brother is kicking yelling and screaming for hours before the nurses strapped his arms to the bed. i tried to write the pills the pain the shock drove him mad before my very eyes i couldnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t sleep with that image in my head i tried to write

to take My poetry and hold it up against the glare of Adulthood:

my father died quickly from cancer almost as quickly as the funeral as quickly as i returned to work to church to pray to my routine there was no room for grief. i tried to write

preoccupied with passing on brilliance a confidence to our legacies balancing ambitious growth with sustaining my loyalty to a past that makes me who i am to a present that accepts me as i am

not in the theoretical not in the theological but a manifestation of being a wife, a daughter parent and sister (no longer) all to say that i don’t write anymore because i became a poem.

foundation. for harriet

the question is the same for a house for a marriage for a nation the creation of nearly everything what’s it made of? I. house my hairdresser of over 10 years squeezed the last drop of shampoo into her two generations old palm: with a house, if the foundation starts to crack it’s over, they say they’ll patch it but in 7 or 8 years more cracks return structural damage and nobody wants it after the first crack is patched you’re just sitting there waiting to sell more knowledge than the internet more advice than a magazine her summary, patches are temporary. II. marriage take any marriage (including the one that created you) there’s what you see and there’s what you don’t a guy friend breaks it down like this: “all of these people running around here jumping, skipping, falling in love... falling in love ain't shit. somebody talk to me please about how to stay there”

i’m building a firm foundation take this hammer, build it with me i’m building a firm foundation to stand tall, to stand free.

marriage by definition is growth you build, buy, bargain, settle on a life together, a Life that’s living and breathing far away from where it began its familiar foundation. III. nation one commonality every american shares is that at some point we have recited the Pledge of Allegiance, at least once, under God...with liberty and justice for all:

--------------The text in quotation marks is from the movie Love Jones, written by Theodore Witcher. The last stanza should be sung in a freedom song style.

there are grave, horrific almost unmentionable atrocities that have occurred on this land blankets of smallpox given to children, the spiritual mental and emotional capacity it took to take a system as bad as slavery to the depths of a new hell to a long-lasting despair, both overt and covert discrimination with the oppression of nearly everyone not white, male, christian, wealthy or heterosexual the forever stamp of these united states a sort of watermark on any attempt to move beyond an unreconciled past the 200+ year old foundation is falling apart no new pledge or new president is going to fix what’s broken it'll take whole people whole communities wholeness to heal this divide. IV. so i’m building a firm foundation it’s made of love it’s made of wholeness i’m building a firm foundation no more cracks, no more sadness

Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;m First Generation Out the Fields. The Daughter of Slaves and Sharecroppers. Ruby Bridges is only 65 years old. She is the first African-American child to desegregate an all-white school in the United States. Segregation is a living history. In my office, there are two decals: Colored Entrance Only and We Serve Only Colored. My white coworkers have asked me about these decals. They read them and I see that curious look on their faces. My response is my parents went to segregated schools in Jim Crow controlled South Carolina. My father was in the first class to desegregate the high school I graduated from in my hometown. This is still a living history for us, and I won't ever let you or anyone forget where I've come from. America is honestly only 2 or 3 generations out of slavery: my generation and the generation after us.

‘member what da bars look like?

born refugees. a haiku

the daughter of field negroes i tend to cringe when complimented could’a been a house slave but I took to da sea breeze that rushes in between long stalks of suga’cane standing water sweet straw

this world does not love little girls. so hurry child! hide escape or jump.

working in da fields there was no hypertension, sugar diabetes da family that prayed together stayed together and years ago we all prayed but tain’t so no more it’s a might painful thang to see all you freed birds flyin back to da cages we should’a just swallowed the key.

and that’s what we thought, that’s why we drank and that’s what terrified me until i met your daughter.

we met in A.A. “Give strong drink unto him that is ready to perish, and wine unto those that be of heavy hearts. Let him drink, and forget his poverty, and remember his misery no more.”

but for the rest of us there is this moment: cotton. green cotton. the green cotton mittens i bought your daughter the first time you brought her over because i remembered my hands always freezing in the late october weather. i wanted her to know that i would be careful with her and with you.

my apartment doesn’t have a wheelchair ramp or elevator so you lifted her up four flights of stairs and we played games, watched her favorite movies drank homemade hot chocolate and i noticed you staring at us from over your mug in tears. there i realized, this was never listed in the 12 steps: actual forgiveness.

you told me you stopped drinking when you received custody. a savior at only seven; children cleanse you when you think you’ve lost contact to heaven.

balance.

a poem as a prayer.

to be honest i'm waiting for balance at the rate i was going i couldn't continue writing wanting loving if it meant giving away everything in me

May our love reflect your Love. Amen. - Miya praying over our breakfast *insert finger snaps here*

even though they said, it's all or nothing suffering is beautiful i knew my heart wasn't a bargaining chip my soul couldnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t be stored in a glass jar until retirement my mind can't always be on you there's gotta be a balance here where i stand this ground is solid sturdy but suspended in chaos, ever changing but never moving from her course the earth, the sun, the moon balanced. my art, my life, my love balanced.

deadly force.

say something.

the fearful. the angry. are the ones reaching for a gun. cops, extremists, a loner, whoever, all fearful. all angry.

riding the metro today and there were more and more announcements to stay vigilant of suspicious activity with phone numbers to call with instructions that if you see something say something...if you see something say something...if you see something say something

how do i/we begin to live less fearful. angry. and reach out to my/our children, partners, friends, family neighbors, colleagues, strangers start with my/your/self-first recognize when i'm/you're fearful. angry.

so i look i see a father making animal noises with his daughter she's buckled safely in a stroller next to a woman with a coffee and tangled iPhone earbuds clearly not loud enough to drown out the animal noises she's smiling showing teeth they're standing across from a seated couple oblivious to me and everyone but each other because commuting together is a privilege few lovers enjoy as i notice at least four other individuals around us with wedding bands two more over there with an express paper front cover "Manchester Attack" the yawns the quick glances the phone swipes the wheels jerking the car forward to slow down doors open and one person gets up to leave at the next stop as all the above activity shifts and i want to say something

like last night in baton rouge like last year in baltimore if you are fearful. angry. today in orlando, in chicago. in turkey, in medina. or the central african republic. stop and breath remain calm remember your life remember their lives do something different feel something different feel something different for us all to spare us all to save us all from death.

i want to say that upon the announcer's request i have recorded these last few moments in my memory that the slightest change will cause us all to start over again like after each tragedy i have to start all over again i have to monitor my breaths my blessings my life more closely because every second is the second before zero the bomb goes off the car swerves into the opposite lane the diagnosis comes back the trigger is pulled back the heart pumps one last time and done no more activity who is watching for the moment before over

------------for #AltonSterling, July 5, 2016 and then again for #PhilandoCastile, July 6, 2016

i am and i'm trying to say something.

after Sandra Bland. i still haven't processed this yet you’re asking me to process my own death it’s like watching a dead me advocate for me not being murdered i blocked her death and her life from my timeline blocked this whole situation out my spirit just to be okay. i know someone that knows her i know someone that looks like her i know someone that has been her i know someone could say these words about me someday it's too much.

I was told today to do more of the things that ‘Wakes Up’ my spirit and energy. You don't have to tell me twice. I’m on it. I'm woke.

“Don’t let the internet rush you. No one is posting their failures.” – Wesley Snipes “Remember to give your body a couple of days to recuperate after something triggering happens. We need at least 72 hours to come back to ourselves. - Chani Nicholas “It is what it is.” - Police Officer “if it’s out of your hands, it deserves freedom form your mind too.” - Ivan Nuru

People won't like you and you will live. - My daddy’s advice

tomorrow: 29

ticking.

fall down seven times.

my heart broke, but it beat.

for matthew warren “In a momentary wave of despair...”

i keep rechargeable batteries as a reminder that life can be revived because i too came back from the dead.

you never know what day will be the worst day of your life. but you get up and get dressed and get things like bread and clothes and love. stock up, because the next morning you can’t trust that it’ll all be where you left it. those things will have to be got again, and again bread and clothes and love.

the Afterlife is afforded more than once Believe me, you will live again... and again the Sun shocks a new beat of life into cold masses of clay and water each morning/ inhale and don’t get too comfortable with death tonight

on the 8th day, i say God created Sorrow and emergency room visits that end with never returning home arguments that silence a decade of emotions to nothing He breathed cancer into our nostrils sent heart murmurs throughout the atmosphere depression and personality disorders descended upon the land and lastly He looked down with deep regret and proclaimed tears to flow down the cheeks every man, woman, boy and girl

there is a second chance there is another breath/ exhale there is still time ticking after everything goes dark.

to thine own self. All of you, all of you weep, shamelessly, and call on Me...

“Nobody knows you. You don’t know yourself. And I, who am half in love with you, What am I in love with? My own imaginings?” - D.H. Lawrence

the good in many instances of this life is hidden, try not to run out of places to look. try not to lie...that’s it...try not to lie

freedom implies that there was imprisonment, bondage, suffering. burdens that can make a new life bittersweet, that can make a new wife troubled. the past was once the present so there’s a possibility that the future will not forget who she used to be.

when the pain is piercing and the grief overwhelms the light scream scratch and cry shake your body vehemently make love passionately hold your mother, your children a stranger, a lover hold on longer let us hear you let us help you so when you fall once again, don’t bother getting up.

what then becomes of caged birds? they sing to themselves, in the dark free of bars but held by memories their song is heard by many when the rest of the world is sleeping. it's understood by the night commuters in Uganda, the runaways in Houston, homeless men on parole, lonely sisters in shelters and by me, on the eve of another anniversary scar-free

i’ll carry you to higher ground to higher ground we will go together someplace the waves don’t reach someplace the tears won’t carry him away.

we know the hum of the blues that brings solace we know that once an addict, always an addict and once a survivor, always a fighter always anxious because something or someone wanted me, wanted to own me, inside and out.

a poem for a fact. a sentence on what i do for a living: Working in this sector is constantly fighting fires caused by people with an endless supply of matches. *insert finger snaps here*

this is how freed people really live; half knowing that our only other alternative was death.

After someone said I was going to hell. There is no denomination, no pastor or recording artist that can give me Salvation or Condemnation. I have a relationship with Jesus for that. I left the black, pentecostal holiness church when I was 14 years old over an issue of selective condemnation requiring girls to wear only skirts and not pants. I honor that not everyone is on the same spiritual or religious path as me, but we all Can and Should be following the Light. It is just wrong and unfortunate the harm that some people believe is their moral and righteous duty to inflict on others. Hate dressed up as conditional love is still Hate, and it dims the Light. Making it that much harder for all of us along the way.

consent.

in the news.

and today's word is: CONSENT - permission for something to happen or agreement to do something.

with all of the senseless shootings and acts of violence:

let this word into your vocabulary.

i want to Love more...Love my family more...Love my friends more...Love my communities more...Love strangers more...Love my enemies more...Love everyone that needs it a little bit more

tell your family about it. tell your friends and neighbors about it. let it hang in schools from kindergarten to college. let it hang in churches, synagogues, mosques, gyms, malls, apartment and office buildings, in the airports, gas stations, and subways. let it hang in neon lights in night clubs, strip clubs, country clubs, and sports arenas. pass out posters and pocket-sized flyers in local grocery stores, hair salons, barber shops and flower shops. print them in all spoken languages with braille and emojis for distribution to every corner of the world.

in hopes that an action of Love can be the deterrent for an action of fear, pain, and the hopelessness that so many allow to take lives and ruin families before our eyes.

coca-cola is the most recognized, widely distributed, commonly understood entity on Earth. make CONSENT equal to coca-cola. say it in a sentence: CONSENT is required for any and all sexual activity. say it louder for the ones who still think they know what You want, the ones who put their needs first, the ones you least expect: CONSENT. CONSENT. CONSENT.

maybe your nose is broken but my heart isn’t and i kept this date for me and my locs that need a special kind of sweat to grow heavy and lovely you know you like the way we feel and there is still something breathing between us your fingers and toes aren’t done with me just yet.

quitting time. even though every guy at the bar that wants my number is flyer then you and this drive to the middle of nowhere is for my legs that twist and contort to the rollercoasters extended beneath your thighs your sheets pushed aside and i’m in it for the thrill my feet feel when you finally find me in that king sized fortress you call a heart but these heart-to-heart reminders that you fly from black orchid to honeypot to dog shit in your spare time doesn’t have anything to do with me are you blind

love in inclement weather. usually, i don’t make it known when i’m in love again soft and calm, i prefer, we come to it quietly like snow my first experience at this was running my fingers through her and impressing myself on the only spot that wasn’t broken or occupied or denied entry but it's gettin' late huh? i rub my eyelashes alongside her face releasing the inner light between us that added hours to what was supposed to be a quick hello and what could easily add years to a season caution is the safe word but all i hear is don’t wait don’t wait for her don’t wait for the right time don’t wait for things to be easier better warmer don’t wait because tonight there could be an accident on the road or a first date or a wintry mix of both

“Don't let your bad days make you think you have a bad life."

Yesterday, someone told us that our energies combine beautifully together. - an observation from a stranger on my marriage “Your Grandmother’s prayers are still protecting you.” - Lalah Delia “Those who love peace must learn to organize as effectively as those who love war.” - Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

forever:

Put your time in, payday is coming after a while. - A song the old folks used to sing

read me.

i do (if you do).

there's a life i used to live and in the moments when i think it’s gone there’s a folder marked "Read Me" that’s been copied and pasted for over 35 years growing with photos and videos of some good memories and some weird so that on days like today -- typically, a Sunday -i can stop being the me i chose to be and remember the one with seeds in her hair planting poetry in summer leaving a boy here or there or a girlfriend in the islands or a girlfriend in a township or a job in their boardroom only to end up in these same deep woods staring down two roads that lead back to me again on a day like today a few years older with a few more photos in a file marked "Read Me" starting again from the beginning not stopping until i’m through.

the day after i marry you we won’t be going on a cruise, no Hawaii no honeymoon at all we’ll drive to a house in South Carolina nestled beneath pecan trees we’ll pick a few plums fight off mosquitoes and i will tell you who i really am.

yet no one dares disturb her drum cadence beating lungs rhythm tempo pulsing hips heart deep inside the Dance

move. unlike most, she sees herself hears herself the way the goddesses do divine.

unlike most, blind and deaf unable to move.

assembling at sundown to watch her dance Dance Oshun, Yemeya and Mawu unearth a glistening new ruby to convene the rite to guard her feet painted toes among pebbles splash in splash out of streams that launch waves healing cancer releasing amethysts into the air sweet pea and water lilies adorn her hair dark strands flutter into the night sky like wind as the stars have dimmed to stare

free is more than a changing emotion.

free spirit. it’s not at all what you may think: no field of wildflowers no prancing around the pubs of Australia, free is not a place.

so we spirits thrive on second chances make new uses of broken pieces not at all secure, often falling for the next good thing impartial, honorable, perhaps bold and daring, but shaky in tight spaces, like cold offices and mediocre relationships.

i was six when i began to talk to angels. They spoke to God and God would Speak to my grandmother. now that’s a good religion, there’s someone in your life who already has the answers too. i am becoming that person,

to be different is easy the slightest things move us: light mangoes and drums windows and nieces peace and fingertips the ocean and the smell of summer,

instead of waiting i do in two breaths what takes most two lifetimes love; and then let go.

to abandon our pattern is not the same as running from our problems they always find you. this is chasing the answers,

trust comes in at the cusp of every spring, desiring forever but trading it all for a kiss. especially if she has a pretty smile,

my friends have guided me towards my destiny more

and that’s okay too

than they know my parents see visions in their dreams my sister waits on the other side (ashe now).

a poem for a fact. they say tell the truth and shame the devil: The roots of various African religions shaped Christianity and make up the Spiritual spine that has supported black people throughout the diaspora.

but each day i decide to go another way, not to be held by the past or future but by Love â&#x20AC;&#x201D;

ashe and amen. *insert finger snaps here*

this is free this is spiritual, all it takes is to choose. and iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;m available now... to prisoners and poets foreigners and family critics and CEOs the responsible the wild ones the hippies and you.

you ever called her with nothing to say, “just wanted to hear your voice baby...”

when saturn came. (During Saturn's first cycle, the major task is to find a place to stand in our lives and perceive a few reliable landmarks from which to take bearings, so that we can face life more than retreat from it. Then from 29-30 onward, we can begin to extend and deepen the various possibilities that our lives contain -- a process culminating in the second Saturn return at the age of 58-59. After this point of stock-taking, the third and final cycle begins.)

this lifelong journey through space and time is the same thing. beautifully distracting. after your loans are paid your aunties and uncles start to pass away juggling pre-school tuition with retirement investments backed up in a lane far from the finish line called your 30s of love family and career who really gives a shit what saturn has to say she’s going to leave again anyway planet’s always do.

people go crazy and come back all the time it’s not the sun that turns her back on us we move. we run in circles. we hide. we lie. and if we don’t die from all of our stupid stupid mistakes then maybe just maybe we’ll set our tired tear-filled eyes on the light again.

take it from me these last few years have been a bitch bruh!

my saturn always returns to me with stories and sins like i’m some sort of undercover priestess or something. these women confess all kinds of personal matters to me so much so that i had to stop writing for three years just to catch up. it’s senseless what they did for love tried everything and still end up alone.

save your damn self! help yourself heal yourself find some solid ground and stand still for a while she knocks like the wind son! uncertain but powerfully rotating my world.

have you ever taken your girl on a road trip and she makes one hundred stops picks out one hundred treasures of junk talks about everything and sings? you ever take her for a ride and forget your destination?

“The world is not in need of your gifts. The world will go on with or without them. You are in need of your gifts. Your world cannot go on without them.” - Anon

with work so I can go home fry okra do laundry and still have time for a skinny dip

superfly. I can’t be more real then this: even if I put on a dashiki and moved to the other side of the Anacostia I would still listen to Coldplay

I’m that new old Sista. so real. I bite back so free. I love so damn good. I fly so much. more so much. more than you can ever imagine. even flyer. even higher.

I want my meat processed but not my hair and there is no temple grander on sunday mornings more prayerful more praiseworthy where more moans are heard then under my sheets with an old lover I’m that new old Black. No longer blue but sampling Ethiopian food with a brown girl on my arm I stacks lots of dough but buy free trade from my brotha on U Street He pours my oils and smell goods in 3oz bottles so I can get through security to Japan get through to my nieces on Skype get through

because fortune cookies suck, and palm readers lie.

you will have nothing like enough you will take more, you will give all you will rise, settle, step not fall you won’t know it you won’t recognize it but you will be happy. you will be happy. you will be happy.

you are not your mother you are not your sister or your father’s other women you will be happy. you will finish painting the kitchen you will reconcile with your debtors, you will release those in debt to you you will ceasefire you will accept their truce you will be happy. you won’t need a map any longer you will arrive with the key you will dye your hair two more times because you can you will sift through options you will jump off the fence and carry the green grass with you ::literally actually:: you will be happy. you will play, you will rehearse you will notice harmony you will model beautiful you will represent benign mistakes marks memories madness nude in poetry

no paper, no law, no right, no wrong union in love forever and ever between women and men, between gay and straight between black and white souls that don’t just happen to meet, they were brought together and the rest is filed away as history.

what God has brought together. she does she can and she will have and hold her make it better when the worst comes of sickness she’ll heal her tell the doctor whatever she’s getting make it a double they’re in it together this union knows no bounds she cherishes this good thing she had no part in finding because sweetie, you’re a gift to her and she vows to let no man, no politician, no ex-girlfriend no jealous neighbor religious fanatic or even your mama put y’all under!

because … when she’s lonely and you’re sick when she didn’t think she could ever love again when you lost your job when she’s tired and doesn’t want to cook do laundry or empty the trash or when your brother died and when she’s the only person to see you cry when you were robbed and you moved three times when she got the cat and you hated the cat but you kept the cat because you loved her god brings all these moments together, today and forever.

it’s not with nervous vows that she thee weds, nor with a ring or a certificate, an amendment, or missed-representation of the law no steeple or white doves two expensive dresses and champagne to top it all off these things are not necessary but she wants it, so she does it. just know it means nothing to her being a wife she married you at first sight took you forever into her life and your family and friends gathered here today never need an invitation to see her kiss her wife.

so if there be any objections this evening let them speak let them yell let them protest let them hate let them show themselves because they will never ever come close to touching, let alone crushing, what god has brought together today! be well be blessed ashe and amen.

freedom psalm of Mrs. Dorethea.

when i have landed.

my grandma “Stars eventually burn out.”

my eyes are closed i listen to the cracking of pecans beneath my bicycle inhale the scent of freshly plowed soil feel the warmth of a buttermilk biscuit in hand the gold seal blackness back when times were good

in my youth i thought the sun to be the greatest source of Power i was wrong there is a Goddess in the Shadows and she brings life at 2am when breathing is the hardest so many of you will take the path that follows the earth around the sun draining from it every bit of warmth and fervor it offers

and there, my grandmother is frying chicken, baking healing the sick saving lost souls and hanging her clothes on the line all at the same time

but next time i will land on the moon and know that I’m not alone

surely, goodness and mercy lived at 443 Oaky Point Road

the night is not a void to be filled and i am most beautiful in the dark.

in times of trouble her voice leads me to God the Spirit that revolved around her is desperately chasing after me

viral tombs. as my cup runneth over but i am always thirsty

hashtags like pyramids mark the new era of social media tombs a viral massacre of black and brown people as trending artifacts kept frozen in time buried on the internet kings and queens murdered around the clock as a brutal reminder that we still bargain with deaf gods just to have mercy on us to pay attention to us in this life, let us live a simple request positioned alongside these virtual memorials #BlackLivesMatter a somber recognition for Souls worthy to be saved and forever remembered.

i never came this close to the Shadow of Death surrounding us the night she died as clear in my mind as the last time i saw her alive is her psalm of freedom: Back to the dust Way back Back to the dust Going back Back to the dust We must go Love not your body More than your Soul Way back Back to the dust We must go

#BreonnaTaylor #AhmadAubrey #GeorgeFloyd #AtatianaJefferson #BothamJean #JoshuaBrown #EricGarner #MichaelBrown #OscarGrant #EJBradford #StephonClark

------------â&#x20AC;&#x153;Back to the Dustâ&#x20AC;? lyrics from The Angelic Gospel Singers

#TerranceCrutcher #TrayvonMartin #MarkeisMcGlockton #TamirRice #SandraBland #PhilandoCastille #PamelaTurner #AntwonRose #AnthonyHill #JemelRoberson #JeffreyDennis #LaquanMcDonald #WalterScott #JordanDavis #AiyanaJones #RekiyaBoyd #AltonSterling #SeanBell #FreddieGray #SamuelDuBose #AkaiGurley #JamarClark #EzellFord #TarikaWilson #ShereeseFrancis #ShantelDavis #SharmelEdwards #PrinceJones #JohnathanFerrell #AmadouDiallo #

His grace is sufficient for me. - 2 Corinthians 12:9

free people. by princess bethea soulcista@gmail.com facebook.com/soulcista find it on facebook: facebook.com/ShoNuffFreeArts © sho nuff/free art #freepeopleperiod

52 1) This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. To view a copy of this license, visit creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nd/4.0/ or send a letter to Creative Commons. 2) Quotations used are credited to the source to best of my knowledge and borrowed under the “Fair Use” limitation and exception of copyright law.