Monthly Archives: August 2019

I pray you dream…

Dear wounds that wake me up in the middle of the night, more like 3:44am

I wanted to sleep like my life depended only because I think my life depended on it.

I wanted to trade my frustration, any sense normalcy

I wanted my Kumbaya moment,

I wanted the rapper on the hip-hop station to include real words that even at 39, I could say was relevant and I could relate

I wanted the humans walking to stop, feel the earth rotating

I wanted to see people hold their brown babies, mija, mijo, welcome to the good life, with little centavos (pennies)  we’ve saved  a good place to close your eyes and sleep

relax those heavy dark circles inside your head and dream

dream the trees preparing themselves for winter,

see the city ripe with opportunity

see the small business, see a proud family

I pray you dream

remember the red-river,

remember the slave codes

remember the gas-chamber

remember the trail of tears

remember, the ghost of nation

rapid sharks in the mouth

teeth in acid

remember…. Kindness sis. Krissy


So, I’m Just Saying…

As summer makes its grand-ending, 39 strings, harp, worn over. Air-taste so sweet, we laugh and laugh as if to say. Goodbye. So long necklace-beads of sweatbands Mari-Gras- bass to the sole of our shoes, still dancing, muddy, middle-toe rubbing index, said we’d stayed up all night to watch the sun play tricks on us. Bless us all our days.    As if to say, till we meet again, Toni Morrison,

Mesmerizing one sun to another, hips so thirsty, we drink, blue waters, ice-so-cold til our tounges quiver, let the ghost rise, high beyond the beams of 88′ degrees in 2019.

Wonder “how-she made it over” In the shady black and blue ink. Correcting the eyes of millions – to read- to read- to love and pause…

I’m not saying this o-o-o man,  fe-e-l me, girl. cmon. feels like a cry, traveling, made its way from my ankles, only now, it’s standing in front of me, feels like, God’s shoulder, I can get a good lean in. 

and the words,  just won’t come in right.

this ain’t goodbye,

we’ll be reading, it will last a lifetime- your kindness sis. Krissy