Faye Turner-Johnson
B-r-o-k-e-n
in the quiet of the early morning
taking living water to the Black-Eyed Susan
I stumbled over the flowerbed
leaving a toe wedged between the bricks
scraping away the breakfast I could not eat
a finger fell into the garbage disposal
I switched it on not reaching in to retrieve the limb
before it was ground to near shreds
the tiny bones and gristle making a sound I imagine my heart would
if it could grind a pain like that
hurting in lumps…yanked apart
last evening my tongue split into a forked monster when I read that
Jacob Blake was shackled to a hospital bed
the seven police bullets fired into his back at close range
lacking the power to both humiliate and suppress his super criminal black body
I tried to scream for him…for all of them as they melded into one enormous atrocity
but I had no sounds left to intone the anguish of the genocidal brutality
stacked in layers upon centuries of ignorance and hatred
once it was only my lungs that could not breathe
now the whole of my b-r-o-k-e-n inner core is collapsing …folding in on itself
like the Twin Towers on 9/11 disappearing in a plume of smoke
losing air yet fated to rise again on the 3rd day
reborn…invincible
As I Digress
racing at breakneck speed…galloping to the edge of insanity
I dive headlong over the cliff
escape the beast of bigotry
find sanctuary from thunderous footsteps…
the encroaching shadowy monsters
in a world where they shoot and strangle
violate with Jim Crow anger
turn myself inside out…crawl within the phrases of a poem
journey to discover half-rhymes made whole within me
pressed against similes and metaphors to keep me warm
verses full of light
rainbows stoking a fire inside
languish here for awhile
away from a mean terrestrial planet…
the horror of hatred in this unsettled nation
where the color of my female-gendered skin finds no peace
seek respite inside the calming breezy curves of my words
unwind in this poesy defining paradise in the here and now
within the sphere of my being
where my non-white bloodline feels safe
our children become immortal…unscathed by hoods and cloaks
flashing death sirens…badges of iniquity
no uncivil flags hovering master over me
as I pull from the universe
thoughts and ideas that frame comfort
penning a destiny of freedom and justice yet to be realized
here…within these lyrics that speak my dream
awaken…this ebony tongue also beautiful
Faye Turner-Johnson: “I am a retired educator with B.A. degrees in Theater and Elementary Education from UM-Flint. My work has appeared in Sky Island Journal, Kissing Dynamite, The Five-Two, The Raw Art Review and other publications.”
