“and
they speak through me”
by
jacquese armstrong
because
there are diamonds/
gold
in that rubble ( as some call it)
i
dig and i dig
for
nuggets of wisdom/clues left
by
my ancestors
they
comforted me
rocked
me in their lap
when
the lights went out
and they shine through me
people
ask me why—
i am without blue remorse ‘cause
ancestors
took my hands
led
me lovingly
to freedom of mind
from the red
insanity of blue yesterdays
and they speak freedom through me
whispered knowings descend from
mountains
stories grown cold
turn
hot
insensitivities
don’t fade
they blossom granite
(i love my family ‘cause
they rode the turbulent ill winds/
landed on fertile ground)
it doesn't mean I can't sip the tea
of forgiveness (if served)
but i can never erase the tape
unedited from my mind
‘cause they illuminate through me
held my head close to their chest
and
i was rocked
consoled
they
cried blood tears with me
ropes
tied
in hand held earnest
emotions
bitter/forbidden
to
depart until death
like
my impaired ones
but
a laugh/ a Joy/humor spewing from a
story
brought stinging water to the open
eye
for
incessant timing
survival
they bleed through me
'cause I digest their pain
cubic tears bounce laughter
as
madness
i gain
power/
stitched piece by piece--as
a quilt
introduce
myself to myself now
sturdy
pliable like
matured
wood
they grow like vines through me ‘cause there has to be
someone
left
to tell the stories
come
eat from the fruit of the ancestors
it makes you stronger
the
day’s mischief impeached
