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Mama Tayé's Elder's Prayer - Sharing Six

Mama Tayé's Elder Prayer - Sharing Six
The black night calm storm to the morning blue of tears shed of lives lost of weary feet and souls wondering how long, to those we greet in the way of light and life knowing that there can be no greeting of peace as long as justice is unserved.
The morning rises on the Weekend of Resistance where young and old join arm-in-arm and stand face2face against the policies that criminalize bodies in black and brown, against the system that profits on keeping them down.
We honor their lives and their families that mourn them - all of them in all of their Millennial hopes and dreams dashed, in all their smiles and even in their errors, they were loved and we honor their right of existence.
Standing united as one, we loudly proclaim our righteous fight to lift up to unit to organize and to deploy those into our land to protect, provide, and promote the lifes of our black sons and daughters. We stand as one in this supposed land of the free and we stand together brave where our ancestors shed blood nourishes this soil and shout our right of existence, right of protest, and right of redress for centuries of wrongs done.
Infiltrators will not stop us, traitors will not stop us, sleepers will not stop us.
We stand together, knit together, threaded together, woven together, sewn together, linked together. Together, we will not break.
As the morning mist sends out the clarion call for those to come and come they are to the Gateway City to resist to vocalize to announce that this is enough and we are not going away, as this mist wakes up the dawning of soul's wonder, we pause to remember the sons and daughters, and promise their spirits that we will march on with weary legs, we will shout on with parched throats, we will keep on and keep on, because 65 days is not long enough, 2 days is not long enough, it is not long enough. We want justice in our own land.
Let us hold together and honor together and stand together and together we will challenge the laws, stand in the face of unjust prosecutors, use the third eye to record the actions of those in blue and spread it through the mechanism of the Internet to reach every hamlet and house in these United States. We stand together and shout together to those who are asleep to wake up and to those whose skin is the color of milk to open up and hear this, know this, we are not going away, that thie privilege they have unearned and enjoy is not a right for them to deny life to those whom they fear because media, politicians, and police demand that they do so.
Shouting from the hills and valleys, the beaches and mountains, from the plains to the riverlands, we black people will not be silent, our call is righteous, timely, and just.
Just us, Just us, Just us, Justice.
And it is So.
Mama Tayé


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The Burden

This isn't mine anymore



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

What is this?

Take it, it is your's.


No, it is not mine to carry

What do you mean?

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

I don't understand

You never did.

I don't want it.

Take it.


So she
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


in their sleep

on a run

at a store

too many


just walking

just working

just breathing

It rained today

And I couldn't see

for all the weeping




Bridges by Tayé Foster Bradshaw

across time
Bringing me to you
you to me
over a way through-
tears and fears
to bring us to
the other side of possibility
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

the great

©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…