Because love is everywhere

As I was coming out of a store yesterday I saw an old black man walk past a young(er) white woman who was leaning against a wall holding her bicycle. He asked her if she was ok because she didn't look well. She replied that she thought she was just hot and tired. He was so gentle and king to this woman. This stranger. And none of us are strangers. And he knew that. He stood with her and convinced her to move to shade where she could better rest. And it was just that. One human being taking a small moment out of his day to stop to show some good old time compassion. To see a woman who might have been in need and do whatever small or great part he could do to better her situation.

Me with Therman

Reunion

Today was day three and the official close of the Gray Family Reunion. I had a wonderful time reuniting and getting to know family. Also getting to know some family as friends. I am so glad that my son was there to be a great part in the weekend. He was one of the leads in the family play last night. Yes, family play, we go hard. Also just watching him interact with other family members just made me even more proud of the man he is and is becoming. There was so much that happened this weekend. Shout out to the reunion committee, of which my mother and Uncle Therman are a part. This post was meant as a one or two sentence free write and not really a full recap of the weekend. That will come later. In spurts. Maybe.

One of my favorite moments happened tonight after the family church service, We. Go. Hard. when my cousin Linda and I shared in conversation and realized that we had many of the same passions and care in and for humanity and the world. There was this moment when she stopped being just cousin and someone I am greatly looking forward to sharing friendship, ideas, words, tea, energy with. We played with each other as children and in my mind she was little cousin. Hallelujah for growing up and connecting as adults.

Tomorrow folks will come to the house where my mother lives and where many of them either grew up or grew up visiting. The Long Beach house. It's been a long weekend and still excited about tomorrow.

Rest well, y'all.

A poem a day for 2013 - day 172 - Gray Family Reunion 2013

I am the fith generation of Elbert Gray
Son of Dave and Jane
We are tribe
We history so roots
We Africa
We middle passage
We American soil so slave
We are made of something more

We free
We family
Louisiana
California
Nevada
Connecticut
Utah
Points between

We sing so voice
Like angel like God
We act
We cook
We apple pie peach cobbler

We cousin so fun
Play hand clap pat pat
Double Dutch
Street race on feet in Oakland streets
When I was a kid with the the San Francisco crew

We smart like books
Like sense like business
Who you know can do it better
Than we
So beautiful

We complicated love
We get along
We don't get along
But we know we family

We hurt feelings
Bruise egos
Step on toes
Don't change DNA
We get together
To remember history
To forgive
To forward
To
Family

A poem a day for 2013 - day 171 - Status

My sisters are alive
They are infected with HIV
Not death
These are living women
These are inspiring women
Daring to every day
Again
Again
Until the last tomorrow
How you livin'

These are educating women
Bold enough to take staples out
Your mind
Your ignorance

These are afraid and fearless women
Broken and knocking down doors
Anyway
HIV / AIDS will not hold these women
Down
Back
Stigmatized
Separated
Buried
Silenced

These women
These sisters
Daughters
Lovers
Wives
Friends
Mothers
Teachers
Preachers
Have voices
Have lungs
Have courage so Everest
They will not be contained
Will not be forced
Held
Boxed
Inside your sickness
Your sickness
Not theirs
Your disease
Your mind peeling and sticky with misinformation
Hate
Lies
Yourself

These women have been tested
And tried
These women are living
To tell

America

An all woman mostly white jury in the Trayvon Martin case.

Changing

Because changing the channel of my mind is easier said than done though not impossible / a must / because old conversations replay till my cells remember again the anger and frustration / internalized old stories coming up because they want out / I fight instead to protect the innocent but especially the guilty / what is the point of all this healing work if I only swallow and force the poison back down / only to come up later?

Dear Jaha

Wait.

Dear people who hire artists

Do not tell her how much you will pay her
Ask how much she will charge you
When you need a plumber
You do not tell him that the job pays $???
You tell him what you need and wait for a quote

Do not assume that you do not need the art you are requesting
Please close your eyes and imagine your event
Without a speaker
Without a cook
Without an M.C.
Without a song
Without a program
              (Folded. Double spaced. New Times Roman. Picture on front.)
Without a photographer
Without a cleaning crew
Yes
Handling a broom takes an artistic prowess
Beyond your vision
To pretend to be invisible
And ignore your insensitivities

We are not lucky to stand in front of you
While you wear your fancy hats

Thank you

Jaha Zainabu

Fishy

They are finally saying on the news that maybe there was something fishy in the death of Michael Hastings. Maybe? He confided with someone that the FBI had him under investigation. Yeah, I bet they did. He was a journalist who sought to be fair and honest. Folks in high places lost jobs behind his words. He was only thirty-three years old and had much more to say. So yeah, fishy indeed.

A poem a day for 2013 - day 170 - Gratitude

I am thankful for all this
All this love
All this eyes open
All this sun
All this limbs moving
This breath
This this
This son
This family
Ride
Work
Busy
All this life to figure out
All this step by step
This debt to pay
This poems to write
This this to this
This blood to flow
This heart to beat
This flowers to smell
This funny to laugh
This news
This give
This take
All this thankful
To be thankful for

A poem a day for 2013 - day 170 - poem 2 - Easy like morning

I know the world will not slow down 

No matter how fiercely 

I stretch my fists to the sun

I know how to pray

I am always praying

No matter my physical position

No matter the words you think you hear

I am always in conversation with Spirit

Because that's how we do it

We converse like two old women

On a Mississippi wooden porch

Chipped paint

Head scarves 

Sweet tea

Dogs barking at strangers 

Flies at our feet

I know God like that

Don't you

I will take my last breath one day

This is not an if

Before I do I wanna tell these stories 

So shut up in my bones

I drag around like wet towels sopping up

Tears my grandmother's mother's mother passed down

Stories that come to me in the night from folks 

I don't know

Ain't got nothin' to do with me 

'Cept they know I know how to get a prayer through

And a story straight

Like I know my own toenails 

I am sure that the only thing that matters is love

I know that the further we separate ourselves from love

Is the further we separate ourselves from ourselves

You think I don't know my own face when I see it

You think I ain't walkin' 'round on your feet

With your hands and thighs

Those are my knees my teeth

These are your lips and lungs

I know that we are all one

So busy lying on God 

As if a being so great would hate itself enough

To divide into two

Three 

Ten

Fifteen 

Twenty

Twenty-five

Thirty

All around my base is it

Let me touch you

Feel my fingers so wiggle inside your skin

There is no place I start or you end

Go put some jeans on

Some Chucks 

A thrift shop shirt

We can walk around like twins

Who you flossin' for

I don't know everything

But I know that getting back to the basics

Is the best business at hand

I know we are nothing without each other

What it matter all this good I got

If heavy on yo mind so muddy 

You can't inhale longer than you blink

What good are my fancy dresses 

And red bottom shoes

If they 'bout to cut off her mama's feet

We can't laugh over tea

I know that these arms are for building

For tearing down bridges and stretching across waters

I know I spent tears headachin' about folks walkin' over me

Till I looked up to find my back was their only pathway through

I am not rag for filthy feet

But I know that I am strong enough to carry 

The next soul in need

Even if that one is me

I know sometimes the clouds get low

I know there are days I feel stuck in a mass of 

Sadness and fear and anxiety suduku my brain so math

I forget the numbers to dial

But I know how to reach

I know how to be still

I know how to rock and sing

I know how to cry

I know how to remember how good God been to me

I know how to wave hand

I know how to give thanks

I know how close eyes

I know how to know that clouds pass

I know ain't none of this easy

So I know how to give you me

When clouds come to you

I know therapy sessions should be held at

Roscoe's Chicken and Waffles

Over grits and eggs and fish

Prayed over by a greasy hand man with a handkerchief in his pocket

I know that

I know food ain't free

But I know how to cut mine in fours 

So we can all eat

I know it's up to me

I know it's up to you

I know I am learning how to forgive

I know that forgiveness does not mean 

Stories won't rise up

I know how to let them out

Same one by one way they got in there

I know that I am wonderful

I know that I forget how wonderful I am

I know how to remember the next time I do

I know to open my eyes

And look right into you