She stood by the bedside of Jordan. A lotus. Feet grown from delta mud. She was creation. Exploded from chaos. A holistic believer.
Ruleville, Mississippi. Crooked state. Chosen land. Eternal cost. Chosen woman. Creased face. Her memory wavers like an untuned church organ.
If you see her. Tell her you remember. Her protected skin that matched night. Unafraid. Sleep patterned to that of bats. Called upon. Like Nut and Shu. To uphold the heavens. Keep young mouths breathing. When tempted to swallow swollen faith. She followed the dust and escaped through the vents.
Forgive his-story. If you see her. Tell her you remember. Her electric stance. With no power. Her baptized in truth. With no running water. The light that shone from her mouth. Pronouncing greatness everywhere. She was the last of her kind. Now. They sing to dance. Or fight for fame. She crossed black cats.
Untangle her veins. Let her courage run through you. Braid her mangled mane. Release her tortuous days. With a flat black jack. That splintered kidneys and broke blood vessels. Same night Medgar gracefully bowed. Her breasts forgotten. Skin resented. Pelvis shattered. More than woman. Than leader. Than human. The horseshoe missed the stake. Their hatred slid off her like egg yolk. Because God spoke. Tell me later.
“Tired of being sick and tired.” Infinite. For the world to recite. Her tongue. Against Vietnam. A black military. Black Panther Party. Infinite. For the world to study. Her brain.
She believed in every rain drop. In every baby’s cry. Others snapped their necks against frozen water. Prayed up. Since the fire started. She conquered all octaves. Roamed every chance in her soul. Democratic National Convention. Taught. Listened. Patient black sheep. In the cotton fields. Raised a Freedom Farm. Thousands rejoiced. Fulfilled. God spoke. Tell me now.
Forgive his-story. If you see her. Tell her you remember.
taken from the book,
Mississippi Window Cracks by Nikki Skies