“The World ain’t fair, my child.”
A father to his discouraged girl.
That shattered the father’s heart into prickly pieces for he never imagined a day would come where he had to reveal the horrors of reality to his beloved girl when He first held her as a baby.
He wanted to protect her
He could no longer be her knight in shining armor against this unfair World.
Mama says, “When you are really tired, you won’t have to tell anyone.
You will stop proclaiming it from mountaintops,
or rallying around your tiredness in the village square.
Naw, baby! When you are really tired…in all your blackness
and sexiness and woman-ness, the world will feel it – a guttural
cry from it’s core will rise up! All words coming together until there are none.
(Have you ever heard a woman’s holler
when the news hits her lactating breasts that there will be no child to feed?
Lost to the auction block or while clawing its way through the vaginal canal?)
It is a sound that you can hear even in your sleep –
a sound that tattoos itself onto windpipes.
The essence of you as a Black. Woman. with the gall to be tired will halt
the earth on its axis. And everyone…everyone will hold their breath if only
for a moment. And they will know. So, naw baby…you ain’t tired just yet.
The earth is still spinning.
And you are still talking.”
Him: Babe. Does water thirst?
Her: Sure. Of course. Water thirsts. Everything thirsts.
Him: I don’t think so. I think that it is attracted to dry things. That it gravitates toward areas of drought. But thirst and gravitation are not the same. Only porous entities thirst.
Her: An intact vessel. Water thirsts…for holy grails with no holes. Trust me on this one.
When he speaks
My vagina spills, pours, gives
When he speaks
I never spill
Woman? The vessel?
No. You are mistaken
The woman is the living waters
Her one true holy grail