~Ntozake Shange

dark phrases of womanhood 

of never having been a girl 

half-note scattered 

without rhythm 

no tune distraught 

laghter falling over a black girls shoulders 

its funny 

its hysterical 

the melodyness of her dance 

don't tell nobody

don't tell a soul 

she's dancin on beer cans and shingles 

this must be the spook house 

another song with no singers 

lyrics no voices and uninterrupted solos 

unseen performances 

are we ghouls?

children of horror?

the joke? 

don't tell nobody 

don't tell a soul

are we animals?

have we gone crazy?

i can't hear anything but maddening screams

and the soft strains of death

and you promised me

you promised somebody/ anybody 

sing a black girls song 

bring her out 

to know herself 

to know you 

but sing her rhythms 

carin/ struggle/ hard times 

sing her song of life

She been dead so long 

closed in silence so long

she doesn't know the sound 

of her own voice 

her infinite beauty 

she half-notes scattered

without rhythm / no tune

sing her sighs 

sing the song of her possibilities 

sing a righteous gospel 

let her be born 

let her be born 

& handled warmly 

A rapist doesn't have to be a stranger to be legitimate. Someone you never saw. A man with obvious problems. But if you been public with him, danced one dance, kissed him goodbye lightly with a closed mouth, pressing charges will be as hard as keeping your legs closed while five fools try and run a train on you. These men friends of ours, who smile nicely, take you out to dinner, then lock the door behind you.  Women relinquish all rights in the presence of a man who could apparently be considered a rapist especially if he has been considered a friend and is no less worthy of being beat within an inch of his life and being publicly ridiculed having two fists shoved up his ass than the stranger we always thought it would be who never showed up cause it turns out the nature of rape has changed.  We can now meet them in circles we frequent for companionship, see them at the coffeehouse with someone else we know, we can even have them over for dinner and get raped in our own houses by invitation.

Ever since I realized, there was someone called a colored girl or an evil woman, a bitch or a nag I been trying not to be that and leave bitterness in somebody else’s cup. Come to somebody to love me without deep and nasty smelling scars from lye or being left screaming in a street of lunatics whispering, ‘Slut, bitch, bitch. Nigga, get out of here with all of that.’ I didn’t have any of that for you. I brought you what joy I found. And I found joy. And then there’s that woman who hurt you. And who you left three or four times. And then you went back after you put my heart in the bottom of your shoe. You just walked back to where you hurt and I didn’t have nothing. So I went to where somebody had something for me, but none of them were you. I got a real dead loving here for you now, ’cause I don’t know anymore how to avoid my own face wet with my tears because I had convinced myself that colored girls have no right to sorrow. I lived for you. I know I did it for myself, but I couldn’t stand it. I couldn’t stand being sorry and colored at the same time. It’s so redundant in the modern world.

Somebody almost walked off with all of my stuff and didn't care enough to send a note home saying "I was late for my solo conversation" or "two sizes too small for my own tacky skirts". What can anybody do with something of no value on an open market? Did you get a dime for my things? Hey, man! Where are you going with all of my stuff? This is a woman's trip and I need my stuff to "Ooh" and "Ah" about. Honest to God, somebody almost ran off with all of my stuff and I didn't bring anything but the kick and sway of it. The perfect ass for my man and none of it is theirs. This is mine, Juanita's own things. That's my name. Now give me my stuff. I see you hiding my laugh and how I sit with my legs open sometimes to give my crotch some sunlight. This is some delicate leg and whimsical kiss. I gotta have to give to my choice. So you can't have me unless I give me away. And I was doing all that till you ran off on a good thing. And who is this you left me with? Some simple bitch with a bad attitude? I want my things. I want my arm with the hot iron scar. I want my leg with the flea bite. Yeah, I want my things. I want my calloused feet and quick language back in my mouth. I want my own things. How I loved them. Somebody almost ran off with all of my stuff and I was standing there looking at myself the whole time. It wasn't a spirit that ran off with my stuff. It was a man whose ego walked 'round like Rodan's shadow. It was a man faster than my innocence. It was a lover I made too much room for. Almost ran off with all my stuff and the one running with it don't know he got it. I'm shouting, "This is mine!" and he don't even know he got it. My stuff is the anonymous ripped-off treasure of the year. Did you know somebody almost got away with me? Me, in a plastic bag under his arm. Me, Juanita Sims. Somebody almost walked off with all my stuff.

One thing I don’t need
is any more apologies
I got sorry greetin me at my front door
you can keep yours.
I don’t know what to do wit em
they don’t open doors
or bring the sun back.
They dont make me happy
or get a mornin paper
didn’t nobody stop usin my tears to wash cars.
Cuz a sorry
I am simply tired
of collectin
I didn’t know
I was so important to you
I’m gonna haveta throw some away
I can’t get to the clothes in my closet
for alla the sorries.
I’m gonna tack a sign to my door
leave a message by the phone
‘if you called
to say your sorry
call somebody
else!
I don’t use em anymore’
I let sorry/ didn’t meanta/ & how could I know about that?
Take a walk down a dark & musty street in brooklyn!
I’m gonna do exactly what I want to
& I won’t be sorry for none of it!
Letta sorry soothe your soul/ I’m gonna soothe mine!
You were always inconsistent
doin somethin & then bein sorry
beatin my heart to death!
Talkin bout you sorry well,
I will not call,
I’m not goin to be nice,
I will raise my voice,
& scream & holler
& break things & race the engine
& tell all your secrets bout yourself to your face
& I will list in detail everyone of my wonderful lovers
& their ways I will play oliver lake loud!
& I  wont be sorry for none of it
I LOVED YOU ON PURPOSE,I WAS OPEN ON PURPOSE!
I still crave vulnerability & close talk
& I’m not even sorry bout you bein sorry!
you can carry all the guilt & grime ya wanna
just dont give it to me!
I cant use another sorry
next time
you should admit
you’re mean/ low-down/ triflin/ & no count straight out
steada bein sorry alla the time
enjoy bein YOURSELF

"l've lost touch with reality

l don't know who's doing it

"l thought l was, but l was stupid

"l was able to be hurt

"And that's not real

"Not anymore

"We should be immune

"lf we're still alive

"How are we still alive?

"My dependency on other livingbeings

For love

"l survive on intimacy

"And tomorrow that's all l've got going

"lt's all l've got

Being alive

"And being a woman

"Being colored is a metaphysical dilemma

l haven't conquered yet

 

But bein alive & bein colored is a metaphysical dilemma/ i haven't conquered yet/ do you see the point

My spirit is too ancient to understand the separation of soul & gender / my love is too delicate to have thrown back on my face 

My love is too delicate to have thrown back to my face 

My love is too beautiful  to have thrown back to my face 

My love is too sactified to have thrown back to my face 

My love is too magic to have thrown back to my face 

My love is too saturday nite to have thrown back to my face 

My love is too complicated to have thrown back to my face 

My love is too magic to have thrown back to my face 

l asked myself,

how l could let that happen.

l realized

"l was missing something

"Something promised

"Something so important

"A laying on of hands

"Fingers near my forehead

"Strong, cool, moving

"Making me whole, sense, pure

"All of God coming into me

"Laying me open to myself

-"l was missing something

-"Something promised

-"Something free

-"A laying on of hands

-"l was missing something

-"A laying on of hands

"Not my mama

"Holding me tight

Saying l'm always gonna be her girl

"Not a laying on a bosom and womb

"The laying on of hands

"The holiness of myself released

"l sat up one night

"Walking my apartment floors

"Screaming, crying

"The ghost of another woman

Who was missing what l was missing

"l wanted to jump out of my bones

Be done with myself

"Leave me alone

Go on in the wind

"lt was too much

"l fell into a numbness

"Until the only tree l could see

"Picked me up into her branches

"Held me in the breeze

"Made me dawn dew

That chill at daybreak

"The sun

"Wrapped me up

"Swinging rose light everywhere

"And the sky laid over me

"Like a million men

"l was cold

"l was burning up

"A child and endlessly weavinggarments

For the moon

"With my tears

"l found God in myself

"And l loved her fiercely"