equatorial sun

November 2, 2006 at 6:21 pm (democratic republic of congo, Motherhood, women of color)

Equatorial Sun

U.N. people

Stay in their trucks

Black insults

Thrown too much

To walk into

Blazing huts

America is having nightmares

Bared

To the world

Thousands of women

Are telling thousands of women

Stories

Survivors ascending

Out of flesh and jail

Buried

In mounds

Underneath flexible trees

They ask me

Where I am from

Red white and blue

American Pie DVD

And snow

When I get home

Heart of darkness

Recedes into night sky

Mythology

Of Congo chains

And slave

Gangs no name

Shame no money

Can’t destroy gun games

So the living is forgotten

Can’t name the life

That you’ve brought in

What it’s like to be dark

In light of logic of economics

That is cutting

Necks of rape survivors

On fire

Pregnant bartered

We’ve fallen into oblivion

Never reciting

Deaths of these martyrs

Innocent mothers

Street children quartered

In war

Every language creates

Difference between women

And whore

They call themselves

Same as they called me

Sister

Mama

Messenger

Has flown home

U.S. buys men

And women

And plays war with itself

We tune out

By turning on the news

We could choose to refuse

Good news

Somebody’s war

Is our gain

Our reign on this earth

And 4th world

Will emerge like herds

Of gazelles running

Through hills

And U.S. dollar Bills’

Military territorial hell

Gangbanging

Women to prove

They have something

Left to spill

In the 4th world where

Tupac is born hundreds

Of times day

And he prays to his mama

Not voice

Of the voiceless

But of choices

To enjoy life even when

She’s loaded with 50 kg

Manoc and groceries

Lives like fallen rice

Women who

Look like women who hold me

Through tears

I’m hiding

In my dreams

The Congo stretches

Like an equatorial

Bird’s wings

Soaring over diamond

Petal flowers

And gold studded trees

Richer than mahogany

Feet stomping

Out a drum beat
And women survivors

Are dancing with their children

Singing for amani

That leaves them breathless

Rather than helpless

With bones of the deathless

They are building

A civil society

In my dreams

Blinded by

Cover of a war

That we created

But still refuse

To see

In the Congo

Black light shines

In the middle of day

Women sway in layers

Of peacock colors

And young men

In mismatched military

Take-those-offs

Carry their gun by the barrel

Over the shoulders

Whistling Dixie

Caught in reflection

Of what we are willing to believe

Of just one more survivor’s

Dream

As long as there is

Women and color

There will always be hope.

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