i remember cotton

i remember cotton

there are things i know things that came with me things older than me older than my mother and her mother things from the wind things from the ocean things sung by the dirt i remember the roll on the water waves washing the ship never far the smell of the sea sounds of suffering moans of misery i remember things older than me things packed in the bags i carry filled with things i don’t want to own but they are mine this will to survive the head to the sky feet moving forward chin tilted eyes clear i know things no one should know i got dark places inside where sun dont shine wild water still flows washing my bruised soul I go on but can’t forget I remember wall street commodities new names new language without enough words to explain why they came death took us death took us we dead walking among the dead & i remember i remember cotton swearing never to forget inventing twoness one for them one for the things i remember my real name my mama my mama’s mama’s song how to hunt in the rain sounds of thunder the smell of the sea i remember dreams of moition chariots and locomotives fleeing twisted motives to build home red-lined sub primed forced migrations incarceration defamation not allowed to remember especially out loud eat the sorrow hold it in your bowels like razors until you bleed out choking on what you forgot i remember i go on but cant forget

About Ayodele Nzinga, MFA, PhD

I create; therefore I am.
This entry was posted in Black Arts, North American African Perspective, spokenword and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

1 Response to Baggage

  1. Pingback: Baggage

Leave a Reply