there are days we must never forget when
we when we belonged to we and when we
honored ourselves and our ancestors and
dance I remember the first time my
mother dance that while with me her
hands were just as nervous as mine and
my father in the distance
dancing Apollo with his brother Canyon
staff cheering us on in the darkest of
nights just covering my family like a
blanket of Suns in Africa this is how we
love we move through dance prayers or
battle we move through time and
confusion we move the unchosen the
chosen the heirs to all things sacred
this land still belongs to us
our children my mother my grandmother a
nation of royal family blood tribes that
shared the same humped Yoruba Ashanti
Zulu succeed and lower we’re bang Congo
and lo Ella and Fulani were lost
now we have always been Sun and Moon
folk now in my village we are taught by
the earth we memorize its shadows and it
sounds and its wins the talking drums
learned my little brother his tongue his
first word was was gratitude gratitude
and his second blood
I can still hear him speaking even when
he is silent we still move without
hesitation and without resistance we
move through time and confusion we move
like water like life like sky we people
children of the Sun daughters of the
moon your ancestors never intended for
you to be still listen listen to the
drums and remember your tongue it is
yours you look to your God and you call
them by name Jehovah Allah Jesus Abbasid
yummy mat I cannot the assessee Abu
cuckoo over
we got bashang gone cuckoo young only
like water like life like sky they are
waiting for us to sprint forward to
thrust to play or fight what nervous
still never motionless it is a constant
space of ebb and flow we move we fight
like water we move like life we grow
there is no such thing as a single issue
struggle because we do not live single
issue lives Audrey Lorde to the
protester who lives inside of her own
protest
be strong be chameleon be Leopard be
changing your spots with every change of
spot or space be ever ducking be running
and running and running be hiding hiding
in picket lines and closet walls beside
eye glances when people find you in
mirrors or lose you under their sheets
be stealth be bending and moving and
folding into boxes be an ocean of
rallies that no one shows up for be
intersectional be mixed be gay and black
but never more gay than you are black
before ever learning that you are both
chicken and the egg don’t matter which
come first both be dead on the same Road
be the others other be revolution
untelevised be body and twisted and
never on the news be nice for a black
girl be cute for a gay one be more oil
than lipstick be slick be clever be
mastering how to change your skin be
sliding into sit-ins but don’t be
sitting in with their wives be Stonewall
or Ferguson
you can’t tell no more be standing in
solidarity with so many blacks even when
so many blacks stand in solidarity
against you
be strong be stiff be iron and fists be
blood and blood and blood and blood be
chicken-or-egg be hard-boiled be feather
rustled be livin while black but never
black walk’ be wide-mouthed
and silence be angry be reckless be a
protest inside of a protest be a fist
full of glitter in a firebomb church
be bruised knuckles and a warm hug be
life be livin if they let you be careful
if you’re willing be ever ducking ever-changing be chameleons
we when we belonged to we and when we
honored ourselves and our ancestors and
dance I remember the first time my
mother dance that while with me her
hands were just as nervous as mine and
my father in the distance
dancing Apollo with his brother Canyon
staff cheering us on in the darkest of
nights just covering my family like a
blanket of Suns in Africa this is how we
love we move through dance prayers or
battle we move through time and
confusion we move the unchosen the
chosen the heirs to all things sacred
this land still belongs to us
our children my mother my grandmother a
nation of royal family blood tribes that
shared the same humped Yoruba Ashanti
Zulu succeed and lower we’re bang Congo
and lo Ella and Fulani were lost
now we have always been Sun and Moon
folk now in my village we are taught by
the earth we memorize its shadows and it
sounds and its wins the talking drums
learned my little brother his tongue his
first word was was gratitude gratitude
and his second blood
I can still hear him speaking even when
he is silent we still move without
hesitation and without resistance we
move through time and confusion we move
like water like life like sky we people
children of the Sun daughters of the
moon your ancestors never intended for
you to be still listen listen to the
drums and remember your tongue it is
yours you look to your God and you call
them by name Jehovah Allah Jesus Abbasid
yummy mat I cannot the assessee Abu
cuckoo over
we got bashang gone cuckoo young only
like water like life like sky they are
waiting for us to sprint forward to
thrust to play or fight what nervous
still never motionless it is a constant
space of ebb and flow we move we fight
like water we move like life we grow
there is no such thing as a single issue
struggle because we do not live single
issue lives Audrey Lorde to the
protester who lives inside of her own
protest
be strong be chameleon be Leopard be
changing your spots with every change of
spot or space be ever ducking be running
and running and running be hiding hiding
in picket lines and closet walls beside
eye glances when people find you in
mirrors or lose you under their sheets
be stealth be bending and moving and
folding into boxes be an ocean of
rallies that no one shows up for be
intersectional be mixed be gay and black
but never more gay than you are black
before ever learning that you are both
chicken and the egg don’t matter which
come first both be dead on the same Road
be the others other be revolution
untelevised be body and twisted and
never on the news be nice for a black
girl be cute for a gay one be more oil
than lipstick be slick be clever be
mastering how to change your skin be
sliding into sit-ins but don’t be
sitting in with their wives be Stonewall
or Ferguson
you can’t tell no more be standing in
solidarity with so many blacks even when
so many blacks stand in solidarity
against you
be strong be stiff be iron and fists be
blood and blood and blood and blood be
chicken-or-egg be hard-boiled be feather
rustled be livin while black but never
black walk’ be wide-mouthed
and silence be angry be reckless be a
protest inside of a protest be a fist
full of glitter in a firebomb church
be bruised knuckles and a warm hug be
life be livin if they let you be careful
if you’re willing be ever ducking ever-changing be chameleons
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