Music: vernacular of the soul


Wednesday, January 23, 2008

rhymes revisited- Grief

it flows
down her hands
trailing over mahogany skin
and onto her clothes
the red mixing with the blue of her work skirt
pooling to create mulberry purple
Black was what she saw when she heard the news
crumpled to the burgundy carpet of the reception room
woke up to sounds of anguish
screams of 'please not my baby'
Didn't realize that the piercing sound
was emanating from her very own mouth
could've sworn it was someone else
Days passed
four sunsets
she sits in his room rocking back and forth
gathers all the pictures from his shelf
as the screams continue in her heart
Her only son
life cut short
was told, nothing we can do for him now
so as she sits on his bed
surrounded by his clothes
remembering the day everything lost color
only black present
a searing pain that only a mother could know

'I regret ...'
two simple words
3 little syllables that shattered her peace
that caused blood to rush to her head and almost caused her heart to cease
end it's beating to end her life cuz how could she go on
husband, brother, father, son, uncle, police officer
knew of the possibility and the risk
but a call to the uniform he was unable to resist
from stick up kid to law enforcement he's say then laugh
a gutteral sound emanating from deep within
used to be the one saying 'fuck the police'
43 year old African American male now walking the beat
surveying the streets
Those same streets he used to run wild when he was a teen
those same streets where his life would end
11 years after joining the force
now laid to rest
flag upon his coffin
sea of blue
fallen officer, fallen angel
'.... to inform you..."

Standing in front of the full length mirror
she drops her robe and stares
at lines that mar her hips and stomach
trails her hands over them
and closes her eyes tight to stop the flow of tears
but as she traces the ridges with the pads of her fingers
overcome with a tide of emotion
her body bends forward
spirit breaking
racked with sobs
Mark Clyde
she hasn't spoken his name out loud
not since...
not since that day
but it's been three years
she cries
alone in the room
naked, trembling
she recalls
she remembers like yesterday
those six months she loved him
then lost him

5 public opinion:

Torrance Stephens bka All-Mi-T said...

dang hon, thats whts up, we had two young blac cops killed here last week ambushed and i rolled u oday if u dont mind

Thic Flair said...

I swear, you need to publish a book of your work. Outstanding!

and get that damn Gangsters Paradise off there.

Ms Sula said...

lol@ thic

Dej, your mind never ceases to amaze me. Please, consider publishing.

Mizrepresent said...

Another great piece.

Don said...

Loved the visual on the poem describing a mother who just lost her son. Deep.