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9/11 on 12

How could sunshine smile on me, comfort me with your glow
When in just moments, there would be destruction my world did not know
My heart jolts and almost skips a beat
I look at the TV and can almost feel the heat
The rumble and the deafening screams
It is still early on a Tuesday morning, this all must be a horrible dream
Will my soul ever settle down again
Can't the heavens just open up, pour out love and shower the rain
Did anyone else see what happened?
A horror so great, my spirit feels damaged
It turned my mind, no longer comprehend
The tragedy seemed over before many knew it would begin
I can not imagine the pain they felt
The impact of the planes and the thoughts, they melt
Ten years ago, it isn't a long day
We are still wondering what happened, challenging what they say
The world will never be innocent again
Many tears shed, still remembering their loss, their pain
I wasn't there, only sitting on a bed
Looking at the crumbling of concrete, holding my head
We may never know the purpose or why that day, evil reigned
I do know this thing, life went on in glory and yes, some pain
Yet that metal to destroy never made it far enough
We are resilient, we overcome, we are tough
The tragedy happened, yes that is true
But now, a decade later, I'm looking for a new day, how about you?

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The Burden

This isn't mine anymore

What?

This.

She stretched out her hands
the parcel neatly wrapped
brown paper
with a
red bow

What is this?

Take it, it is your's.

But

No, it is not mine to carry
Anymore

What do you mean?

I mean that I am giving it back
it was never mine
anyway

I don't understand

You never did.

I don't want it.

Take it.

No.

So she
dropped
it
right
where
she stood.

And turned
and walked away.

The package was never her's to hold.
So she let it go.


Tayé Foster Bradshaw is the poet's nom de plumme. She resides in a suburb of St. Louis surrounded by her family, her books, her pens, and her lattes.

This poem is inspired by the lives and burdens of many women, particularly women of color, who are forced to carry the cares, thoughts, and expectations of others without regard to their own wants, needs, and health. This poem is a release.




Black Mama Tears

It rained this afternoon

Loud claps of thunder

Almost couldn't see the rain

For my tears falling down

Black Mama Tears

too many

dying

in their sleep

on a run

at a store

too many

stopped

just walking

just working

just breathing

It rained today

And I couldn't see

for all the weeping

of

Black

Mamas.

Bridges by Tayé Foster Bradshaw

Walking
across time
Bringing me to you
or
you to me
over a way through-
tears and fears
to bring us to
the other side of possibility
probability
reality
reality
crossing
structures
through
over
under
hold on
don't look down
look down
walk on over
dance on over
wheels on over
over over over
water and roads and
all the modes that
bring
me
to
you
or





you
to
me
collectively
connected
collaborating
across
the great
wide
way


©2016. Tayé Foster Bradshaw Group, Antona Smith. All Rights Reserved.

Bridges used to scare me as a little girl. In the town where I grew up, in order to get from my neighborhood over to the swimming pool or summer activities, we walked. I was always fine until we reached the crest of the hill and that looming structure that connect roads-to-roads, over cars zooming beneath, promising me opportunity on the other side, if I just trusted the weight of my tiny skinny nine-year-old self against the wind blowing or the sun streaming over this manmade steal structure.  My l…