The Womanist poem

I find myself locked in my bedroom. Finally, some peace and quite.
It’s dense.

One cup of coffee & water please. I’m not really hungry, so I’ll pass on that please.

I believe it’s time for fasting.

The Sun shines out side, but the Cosmos shine in my bedroom.

I’m having an affair with the Moon. She slept in my bedroom and shined from above my view. It glistened in this room. She caressed me, and my tears. She said Don’t worry treat them good, and Jah will treat you better.

Suddenly, cosmos of pink, purple, green, and blue. My eyes are the ocean. I can’t see.. It’s foggy from my view. She’s in love with my cries and sorrow. She’s connected to the land of my tomorrow. A dream of nightmare and gratitude.

Mind and spirit are nude. I stare at the mirror. I don’t see pout or swollen eyes, but the mirror shows otherwise. I witness me. She slept in my bedroom. She said You are wise .Finally, I see more than they see.

Is it safe to remain in fixed boundaries when you sleep with both, the Sun and Moon.

I am the ocean. Look at my tears and sorrows. They are waves. I produce expensive salt. Amethyst bamboo.

I love to love.

But, the Sun and Moon think I’m arrogant.

Language is performance, expressive, and interpretive like dance moves.

The Sun and Moon slept in my bedroom. Separately …both of them were in my bedroom. I told you. I love to love. Now they’re jealous for my nonsexual love for more than two. Tease and you never find true.

We’re an integration- We, as in, Ocean, Sun, and Moon.

What am I saying? I’m locked in my bedroom. It’s dense.

I try to write normal, whatever that means. This is how I speak.

My soul isn’t a performer only the language I speak.

But, perhaps it’s not performance I seek. Truth be told..

I’m unimpressed.

I’m locked in my bedroom. Sure I cried, but in my demise I continue to push. They ask me to stand when I’m broken.. Men ask me two stand on my feet when they see I am broken. I stand to show I am Woman. Like the Sun and Moon, I am Token.

I show them what it means to be strong in a world that beats me down to my feet. Like the slaves, refuges, and “immigrants”, they can not defeat the spirit of justice in We. So we pretend we are strong to communicate we are weak. They choose not to pay attention to the injustices they so desperately claim to speak. So, I show case our brokenness to speak. I stand when they ask me to. Not to obey their order, but to show them the broken spirit of people in humanity

I came to class late. I found out I was rejected from what I desperately prayed for. In shock, I imagine myself leaving the city I call home. Lately, most High hasn’t given me what I specifically pray for.

Am I not good enough? Did I do something wrong, Jah?

In the class room I think back to lecture, a panel discussion, months ago in my school.

The system isn’t working.

In my mind I reply.

It’s working, because it does exactly what it’s intended to do.

In my cries I Rise. Finally. I speak.

I’m a view. I’m the Ocean. My tears and sorrow are expensive salt. Amethyst bamboo.

She’s a performer caught up in expressing the wallows of Woman and You.

Amaris Jacobs.

She.

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