Brown Bosom Bondages

(this is poetry.)

It’s quite the opposite of fun, actually
Craving sisterhood due to lack of feminine energy

My mother hardly accepts me
My friends are always complaining
Sistas on the street won’t make eye contact when it’s time to meet
It’s almost like we’re all aliens from different planets
and the universal planetary rule is to ignore familiar physiques, 
keep to yourself, and only please the men

My ancestors are frowning on this sin
Because they know the reason why sisters build from within and they know why motherhood comes before devotion to men
and why little girls need good examples to follow in

Growing up, I was influenced by women who didn’t show soft emotion they just suppressed all of their feelings and grief
until it was time for the pot to boil over and their tempers
would lash in the direction of the most vulnerable amongst them and most times that would be me

Most of the time, I would have to deal and heal at my own expense
Carrying the weight of burdens that I didn’t know existed
until I found myself living in them, 
until I found myself walking in the same shoes of sorrow
that my mother and grandmother broke in

It sure does make it hard for me to make friends, 
when I’m always angry at the reactions of women, 
seeking to understand why it’s so easy to lay burden on sisters and daughters and mothers then move along once we’ve spilled enough into their cup only to then pursue a companion
who may only exhaust us, again

The practice of love and progression is easier when the energy around you bleeds loyalty and direction and there’s no competition and the sisters don’t mind sharing their minds and hearts
and don’t resist the connection of spirit due to wounded limbs
of compassion compression

I hope we find a way to hug at the breast again
and feel our hearts beat and connect again
without the fear of neglect again
and war over who gets to stand next to him

Sistas must rise past, through, up, and together
because it’s always us who changes the weather
and it’s always us who heals the brothers
and it’s always us who guides the way
and it has always been us, saving the day

Brown skinned mothers and daughters
Healing the world, one poem after another
Using our voices as the vessel of peace or pain or passion or change, anyway the messages are great and they resonate
and are concrete on the experience of why we think, behave, 
and celebrate the way we do today

Reach out to your sista, and celebrate her strength, 
celebrate her strain, celebrate her eternal existence, 
don’t let her soul dance in vain

We owe our legacies a change that will be effective for kindred progression, for loving connection, for solid foundation of respect and not separation

Not today and not anymore should we fake it, 
sisterhood will be revolutionized by brown faces