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Mama Tayé's Elder's Prayers - Offering Ten

Mama Tayé's Elder's Prayer - Offering Ten
On this sunkissed morning for the sunkissed people, we call on the example of our ancestors set before us and declare unity at all levels, we will not be distracted and fall at the enemy's sword of division.
We who work with our feet in the community we call home, we who strategically focus messages of empowerment and economics, know we are greater than a splinter in the group who takes rhetoric over work.
Let us who are truly people of justice and action know that this work is long, that enemy in sheep's clothing will try to engage and that the efforts of the many hands together will sheer that false covering and expose tactics of division.
This is a marathon journey for righting centuries of wrong, of recognizing the human rights violations of terrorist flags and army tanks in American streets having no place among people of peaceful protest. Let the activists know that their message has resonated across the world and truly the world is watching.
Let the journey of those to the halls of world convention bring the indictment of murdered sons and daughters by power blue hands to the court of world leaders. May their voices be heard. May their travels be fruitful and may they return triumphant.
We who sit on the wall and we who march and we who give are ones who know that the power lies within the heart of the people, the honorable and true people, the loyal people of the movement.
May we continue to strive on and thank our eyes behind eyes that identify moles who try to hide in black type, let us move on despite those who want to steal, kill, and destroy.
The days ahead are filled with uncertainty and promise. Let us not give what is expected and continue the work of the gateway out and collaborate, collect, and communicate the message that justice with peace can bring change.
The elders and ancestors look around, surround around, and face around to tell the ones who want to harm that not on this watch, not on this day, not in this united front.
Stand up oh mighty sunkissed people and strive on for the work is yet ahead.

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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.




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…

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.