Pink Lattes and A Slice of Poundcake

Prison without walls choke the life out dreams squashed hope dashed love tossed Chains bind clinks without links some have rings shining in gold Ropes tie twised strings fly reasons Chords twice fold Untouched Lie

A slower death like no other has known the sheer pain and grip slower even than cancer leukemia walking dying is to be together --                  Alone                            Untouched                                        Affectionless                                                    Unwanted --together cover for someone else like the living dead.

One bought security Another procured protection At ever new day's rising --they were afraid insecure scared --but protected And Served

I am a woman. A black woman. A black woman believer.  I cry out to God. and wonder about all the other women who cry out to God  but wonder if he hears our prayers or catches our tears because in the U.S. black tears seem to not matter and in other countries, they cry out to God in other languages and in head scarves holding their dying children in their arms while in the U.S. we are told to give more or the private jet is needed in order for us to have our turn in  God's line but my theology tells me that He does not have a line and He does hear and He does see and Vengence belongs to him So we smile and keep praying and teaching and living and walking and know that one day It will be all right. Even if we keep praying and it seems the silence is deafening and the divine appears far away on the other side of the world tending to the prayers of the ones  shut out of country because their skin is a little too black even if the ones shutting them out ha...

Bitch Not in those words Said like You are crazy You need help You are delusional Because she dared to ask why he didn't pay a bill why he swung a knife cutting up a chicken she already had seasoned and ready because his god demanded the sacrifice and he hid it all to control her moves because her presence was his cover and he called her Bitch without saying it

She sat outside on the balcony A thousand tears streaming down Her friend walked by And told her how lucky she was that her husband paid all the bills She sat outside on the balcony in a blue chair behind yellow sunshades on a cloudy day with a thousand tears streaming down down down Because she was just so lucky that her husband worked and paid all the bills

White light blinding her eyes squeezed shut trying to push air through lungs too tired to work so hard... to breathe White nurses in dresses and hats with wing tips and calm voices and eyes the color of water she was too tired to sip and hands like milk she could not drink White rooms sterile with cold air carts with wheels promising relief from the hiss and wheeze from airways grip White  sheets covering thin brown body too small for her height shivering beneath warmed blankets like snow covering in a room filled with tubes clear like glass White like the sea and the nurses and the doctors and the sheets and the ceiling and the walls and everything else to keep her alive in a sea of cold like ice water freezing in the ocean of all white.