Blind Mama

She was one of them women made me real. With those legs, the meaning of oppression couldn’t have become more apparent had it been branded on my forehead with a cattle’s hot iron…
She was a woman.
A woman who forced me to remember:
We are the kind of men who sleep in our own garbage; who refuse to sing anything other the mumbled hopes of our dreams.

And She Said, “ We got the moon hangin’ two feet above our heads and we know it already fell but we’re still waitin’. Waitin on somethin’ like a- Jesus tune- to put a little jump in our step, a little – snap in our heels.”
This was a woman made me watch my step else I cram my foot down her throat and God forbid, make a liar outta all of us.
She was a woman who showed me the way from her breasts to her eyes through our cause.
made me admit, ‘yes, I am a man.’
and she told me,
“ that moon ain’t floodin’ earth, baby. We’ll make it happen before they do”
A woman ain’t afraid to cut my words with her wisdom, my actions with her depth.

She was a woman with every breath and shape of her body, force me to remember.

” It’s not about the fire. It’s the smoke, its the smoke makes em’ cry ashes.”