Victorious Spirit

In the spirit of my father, mother, grandmothers, grandfathers, uncles, aunts, and cousins who have passed on, I breathe today.   In the past, I had all of them to love and guide me through the joys and pains.  On this day of my birth, I recognize how all contributed to my “victorious spirit” to still be alive after several cancer episodes, an all-encompassing cocaine addiction and prison incarceration along the path.   Remembering the pieces of themselves given for me to survive tortuous roads of self-abuse, I weep on this day of celebration. But, I also rejoice in God 's reverence for instilling peace in me so I can continue being a positive foundational influence to the remaining family circle of friends who I treasure and are a vital part of a conscious life.

"I"

used to think

I

can't be a poet

because a poem is being

everything

you can be

in a moment

speaking

with lightning

protest

unveiling a fiery

intellect

or

letting words

drift feather-soft

into the ears of strangers

who will suddenly

understand

my beautiful

and tortured soul.

U see

I

have spent

my life as

a

black

girl;

a kinky-headed

fat-lipped

big-hipped

black girl

and the poem

will surely

come

out wrong

like

me.

If

I

could only be cream colored

lovely with soft gypsy curls

someone's pecan dream

sweet sensation

I'd be poetry in motion

without saying a word

If I were beautiful

I

Could be angry and cute

instead of an

evil

pouting

black

bitch

nigga' woman.

Black girls cannot

afford to have

illusions of grandeur;

not ass-kickin'

always b trippin'

too loud laughin'

mean

loose

black girls.

Even though in Africa

I

would b mistaken

for someone's sister

cousin neighbor

down the way

even though

I

swore

never again to walk

with my head down

ashamed

never to care

those who celebrate

the popular brand

of beauty

don't see me

it still mattered!

Oh, but

now

I

can

laugh

smile

trade stories

write poems

hiding my rage

about all those

years of put downs

I

am through waiting

for minds to change;

the 60's didn't put me

on a throne;

I

will always b

black

ebony

like

the

night

BUT

I

have seen

in the mirror

in the eyes

of my sisters

my women

my lovers

that

I

am

beauty

in

darkness

who flowers with

loving.

VLC.......From Prison 1989