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

Sonnet #16 for February

CLUELESS

Young teenage couple, what’chu gonna do

With that baby you both swore not to make?

So full of lust, careless, now you two rue

Bun in oven with eight months left to bake

Foolhardy ones, thinking you’d be exempt

From “oops” moment just because of first time

No prophylactic in use to preempt

Sperm and egg, mom and dad fate before prime

This is what happens when guidance is nil

Kids running wild and loose, unschooled, naïve

Urgent facts no one around to instill

Too late now, blemished future left to grieve

Hope that one time was worth all that’s ahead

Good luck with ease keeping child clothed and fed

Copyright 2014

Charlene E. Green

Haiku #24 for January

EMPTY CHESTS

When mothers bury

their kids, who helps exhume moms’

thrashed hearts from the graves?

Copyright 2014

Charlene E. Green

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MY SENTIMENTS EXACTLY

My Sentiments Exactly, my most personal compilation, was written over the course of about four years, while I was deep in the throes of major life changes and spiritual transformation. It's my favorite poetic work to date, and it features poems such as "Asunder" and "Time Management." 
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LIFE-ALTERING QUESTIONS AT BREAKFAST

When she asks you
where he is
for the first time
at age seven
casually
out of the blue
while sitting at the kitchen table
mouth gorged with Cookie Crisp cereal
milk dribbling down her chin
no eye contact
but
staring at the side of the box
feigning astuteness of its
foreign ingredients

when she lays
the $64,000 question
in the middle of the table
calmly
and assertively
like
cross-examination
clearly premeditated
with an air of suspicion

first

miss me
with the mock shock
in your eyes
you had to know
this would happen
it’s not like
he’s ever been there
to tuck her in
at night
piggyback her
around the house
twirl her in her
favorite dress
and tell her how pretty
daddy’s little girl looks
or be there at the bottom
of the slide to catch her
at the playground
drop her off
at the school bus
share an ice-cream cone
and prop her on his knee
to tell her how much
he adores her
like all the other little girls’
fathers do

not like she hasn’t noticed
wondered
bathed her pillowcase
in tears
when you turned out
the lights at night
hoping he’d become a magician
and appear in places
other than her dreams

not like she hasn’t
wanted to ask you
before today

so don’t act brand new

second

brace yourself
this is the single-most
important answer
you'll ever give her
you have this chance only
to nail it
don’t screw it up
third—

and this may feel
like thumbtacks
kung-fu fighting
in your throat—

but
swallow your rage for him

hide your noxious words
in the alcove
of your voicebox
and deadbolt them
they're not trustworthy

detour the fatal venom
speeding down your tongue

if you let it crash
onto the table
and allow its toxic debris
to penetrate her innocence
it will destroy her
on impact

your jaws of life
won’t be quick enough
to retract any regrettable utterances
or extract her from
the spiritual wreckage
you'll entomb her in

you'll destroy her

do not rip
her embryonic esteem
from her 3-foot soul
she's precious
and impressionable
so guard her from your contempt
at all costs

acknowledge the fact
that although he left you
with the memories
of the worst of your merger
he also left you
with the best part of him
a lotus flower
that emerged from the swamp
of your muddy relationship

you were pro-him
when you let him
probe you
now the problem of his absence
and how it’s affecting you
is yours
not hers

truth is
you don’t hate him
you loath yourself
for being an open target
for a bullet
you were too weak
to dodge

so when she unglues her eyes
from the side of the box
and they meet yours
in preparation
for the critical reply

smile

with everything you’ve got
no matter how much it hurts
and tell her
he’s there
with her
every minute of the day
in her laugh
eyes
walk
sense of humor
the curve of her smile
shape of her hands
texture of her hair
the mole on her chin
in all the things she can do
that you can’t

tell her

how lucky she is
cuz he’s
closer to her
than he is
to anyone else

grit your teeth if you have to
hold that smile in place
with every thread of
strength your face can muster
when you profess
what a great man he is

because

every bit of good
he ever was
every bit of love
he ever possessed
he stored it
inside of her

©2013 Charlene E. Green