I hear my sister,
Audre
through these words that ignite within me a fresh energy,
a strength.
They echo a distant yet familiar dream,
one that defines the contours of every sister’s mind as she lays in bed at night,
dreaming one day the green fields of liberation will meet her feet,
heal the painful sores on its flesh,
branded by the battle path of “Black woman”;
she has walked this path since 5 years of age.
My sister Audre speaks what I feel oh so deep in my soul,
but can’t seem to spit out as my body is struck by
a paralyzing sensation.
Morphed into a pit in my stomach,
I feel a peculiar sickness in my gut.
But like all my beloved sisters, her words are a panacea;
she reminds me of our collective power, one so unwavering,
it is fueled by anger, vulnerability, passion, imagination, and courage.
She reminds me of that inner power which lies in our gut,
birthed by the syllables and sounds of
poetry.
Her words remind me that liberation of the self is linked to that of my sister’s, my brother’s, my comrade’s who share with me the painful blessing of
color;
of Blackness.
Oh my sister, how your spirit lives within me now as I have been replenished by your words,
awakened by their warmth, deep intentions and meaning.
They are words of your past being,
guiding me into my now being.
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