MY APOLOGIES TO THE WAR HEROINES

*Inspired by the last line of Mahogany Browne's poem "Working Title": I'm so afraid to have a son.

Dear [Black] Mothers,


I will now
refer to you as
Warrior
since you're at war
with your faith
in peaceful days
cuz you birthed black boys

I'm sorry
every time your black sons
walk out the door
you picture mine-filled streets
ensnaring them
bombs donned in blue
with loose triggers
suspect intentions
precise aim

you dread their steps
knowing it doesn't matter
how lightly they tread:
their existence
is the only weight needed
to split the thin ice
they're skating on

I'm sorry your hearts
are too fragile
for simple good-byes
see you laters
be right backs

I'm sorry they're no longer simple

they sound like lies
your sons have no clue
they're telling

fear pillages your heartbeats
dines on your breaths
siphons the hope from your soul
when you hear them

I'm sorry
that in your world
sending them to the store
is synonymous with sending them
to their grave

you weep
pray
second guess
before saddling them
with that lethal task
cuz these days
they're more likely to survive
a freeway pileup
than the trip there and back

I'm sorry you wake up every day
choking on the stench of fatality
the knowledge that your sons
no longer have to be incarcerated
to incur a death sentence
that their melanin
is the revised definition
of "dead man walking"

I'm sorry your love
will never be
big enough
strong enough
mother enough
to protect your sons
from blue-clad bombs
explosive-teemed clips
excuses
tales
jurors
and the rigged system

I'm sorry
there's a war on your sons
you haven't been prepped
to defeat

©2014
Charlene E. Green

Hear Mahogany's poem here: http://youtu.be/ygWnVzFbrN0?list=UU5DH3eN81b0RGJ7Xj3fsjVg

DAMAGED BUT WORTH SALVAGING

Sometimes, you're too far gone emotionally to see your worth, your beauty, your value in the world, to see a way out of your suffering. Sometimes, it takes someone else to be compassionate enough to not only see past your flawed layers but also to help you see past them so you can move forward with uplifting yourself. Nobody gets through this life without others' encouragement. You're lying if you say you've made it through every tough situation all by yourself, with no mental or physical assistance. Too much standing around judging and watching people suffer and not enough helping leads to lost souls ... and lost lives.

Is this your story or the story of someone you know? Check out the video below. Join the Anti-Suffering Movement. Challenge your focal point. No judgment where suffering is concerned.

CURFEW: FOR OUR NIGERIAN GIRLS

I wish this could be as simple

as broken rules

about

the street lights are on

and you’re late

about

git’cho butt inside

it’s dinnertime

come clean up this room

finish that homework

as easy-peasy as fed-up mamas

snatchin’ back curtains

throwin’ windows open

hands on hips

peerin’ down the block

to growl your name and shout:

“I’m not gon’ tell you again!”

while you whiz by on your bike

plead for just five more minutes

and she smiles

chuckles

shakes her head

remembers her youth

her pleads

her eyes soften

and she lets you ride

would do anything

for it to be as “uh-oh”

as fire-breathin’ daddies

sportin’ shiny brass knuckles

waitin’ impatiently at front doors

for never-be-good-enough boys

to bring you home from first dates

that their mouths blessed

cuz you begged

but their hearts didn’t

would much rather this be about

200+ mischievous girls

quietly convergin’

and sneakin’ off

on a secret forbidden journey

fingers strung together

like paper-doll chain

squelchin’ the high-pitched giggles

ticklin’ their ribs

runnin’ free

wind coolin’ their backs

sun meltin’ the cares in their hearts

trekkin’ with no fears

gon’ be right back

gon’ be all right

cuz they got each other

but these wishes are in vain

the street lights have been on for months

and still

none of you are where you’re supposed to be

cuz you were force-fed this broken curfew

into the Sambisa

into marital slavery

and you’ve been gagging

on the bane the forest’s bowels

on coerced $12.00 vows

trying to unbind the silence in your throats

to find enough voice to scream for help

for directions to lead you home

from the detour of Haram

the government’s search has ebbed

and we will not rely on them

to continue to care enough to find you

their time may have been cut

but these clocks in our hearts

will remain ticking

  

we

are your spiritual search party

at night

in our uneasy sleep

our snores

are surveillance helicopters

fueled by the inferno in our blood

that keeps our tanks from running dry

our rapid-eye movements are searchlights

in the murk of our dreams

powered by determination

to illuminate your path

show you the way to freedom

and they will never burn out

no matter how long the nights

how hard the days

piece by piece

we will link the jigsaw of you

back together

rip you from the filthy grips

of the insurgents that body-snatched you

from your rights

from your school

from your learning

from your homes

and we will annul you from your captors

interlock your fingers

to remind you of oneness

of sisterhood

of love

of safety

of strength in cultural numbers

and lead you to your dwellings

where the street lights will beam

and mamas and daddies will be waitin’

impatiently at front doors

to envelop you

inhale your scent

stroke trust into your faces

nurse your spirits back to certainty

revel in your touch

tribal dance in your smiles

to exhale

to live again

©2014 Charlene E. Green
To listen to audio of "Curfew: For Our Nigerian Girls," click here

Sonnet #1 for February

STAYING OR GOING

I know the truth you keep trying to hide

The look in your eyes tells all I should know

If just this once by your heart you’d abide

The strength of our love would most surely grow

We have been at this weak game for so long

I am not sure how much more I can take

You insist that what you’re feeling is wrong

I fear that our bond is about to break

You’ve got to stop listening to your friends

They have no knowledge of how our thing flows

If you refuse to make sure this game ends

You’ll have to live with the fate that you chose

My time is precious; please don’t be confused

I love you but won't let it be abused

Copyright 2014
Charlene E. Green

PERSPECTIVE

I’m thinking about
the fact that I wanna do better
but who’s to say that better isn't
what I'm doing now?

I frequently want more from myself
without being thankful for all that
I accomplish
endure
figure out
and
keep myself from doing

I could be telling this story
from a women's correctional facility
for smashing a head
thru a car window
during a wrangle
potentially deadly
for him
I was incensed

He won’t get out of my car
I need him out
our contempt is monstrous
so I let myself go there
let him take me there
make me snap like brittle bones
under pressure of seething
I'll make him get out
open the door for him
then he'll know
I mean business
get the fuck out of my car
where you’re spitting in my face
with all the disrespect your lungs
can hock up
bullet-filled verbal phlegm
you shoot
perforating me with enough holes
to spurt revulsion I only see in movies
not in my own life
get
out

and I accidentally brush
my arm against his chest
reaching for the door
blaze in his eyes
ireful black man
do you see him
losing control?

then he pushes my forearm
with both hands
before the door opens
and growls: “Don’t touch me!”
but since he's burly
and a 5-alarm fire
push feels like martial art
Chuck Norris on my extremity

then I transmute
into something lethal
now I belong in the wild
among beasts who kill to survive
not in my car
with this man
& four inches
separating our bodies
now we're here:
low-grade domestic violence
when all he had to do was get out
after the first request

now I'm ready
in ways I've never imagined
cuz titanic wrath
has gorged all the good in me
now I wanna kill him
with one thrust of his head
thru my passenger-side window

and I can do it
I'm consumed with yearning
adrenaline inebriated

now all bets are off
bets I don’t even know I’m in on
until now

you think you know yourself
your limits
until all your sensibilities
are drowned in odium

and in three seconds
I see my crime
my lunge
at his head
glass erupting
blood spattering
mutual gut-wrenching roars
his death
bedlam on avenue
in front of his father’s home

Wait
think ...
you can’t kill this man
a hundred feet from his father’s door
over heated words
and a push
it won't be self-defense
it'll be self-sabotage
gather your senses
no
the only killing that'll take place
is of my temper
there'll be no bloodshed
blood on my hands
out-for-blood relatives of his
gunning for me
my head
in courtrooms
or worse
in the streets
suppress your fury
see past this moment
and save two lives
you're not a murderer
you’re just mad

“GET … THE FUCK … OUT!”

And finally he's out
and we're both safe
cuz I did better than I wanted to

And there's no next time
I make sure of it

There's no better that you can do
in this world
than to spare a life
when seconds from taking it

In hindsight
I’ve decided that
thus far
I’ve already done my best

Copyright 2012
Charlene E. Green