Long Before That, I Knew Her When

Long before that, I knew her when
Knew her smile as though my own reflection
Can even now resurrect the adolescent inflections
Of the voice that haunts my resting.

Knew her before now
Back when her hips were wide with promise
And curves led boys to chase manly dreams
After her.

Knew her when first she got braids
Twisted them like knots in school boy bellies
When she winked her rare green eyes
In no specific direction.
She knew her glances left grown men
With erections she could use
to her benefit.

Knew her before her father found proof
Of her indiscretions, so when her footsteps
Came in my direction to ask for shelter
I with no hesitation took her in.

Did not know her womb would fill three times
With clinic rid, unborn children.
Did not know her full lips would occupy
Both seduction and addiction.

Just knew that she was beautiful and earthy
Thick as red clay pots drying on rocks
Soaking up heat without knowing
Sun sealed shapes can't know further molding.

Knew her before the system did
Knew her after her pastor did
But failed to realize what lay hid
Behind those long, fake eyelashes.

Long before that, I knew her when
She and I were young children.
Before she was too far gone
As I was too far away
To wrap my arms around her shrinking frame.

Before I could convince her
That her value was in more than hips and contorted legs.
Was worth more than boots and packs
More than riddled tracks upon battered, sunken skin.
Before I could empower her with truth and fact
She fell back
inward.

Long, long before that,
I
knew
her
when.

MAGIC TRICK STREAMS

I wrote his name in magic marker,
hoping to cast a spell on his mind.
His adoration not the focus of mine,
as I perceived our journey to be a path
which could eclipse reason,
no restraints to bind.

I sketched his face a hundred times,
yet the pencil failed to capture his image right.
In my visions his eyes reflected the firelight
and I could not
get that
on paper.

Slate metamorphic, rhapsodized on one side
Poetic verse devotion, loyal to the plight.

The terminal we departed from for the unison flight,
Hanger of preconceived notions,
incurable, yet contrite.

Like finding a needle in a haystack,
so convinced his train of thought was on track,
But that fallacy was derailed
The rhythm of his tell tale
Didn't beat when it was impaled

By the shards of glass
which made his crass
directives
translucent.

Like a prism, infinity reflects the light of discretion,
the symmetry of the triangular projection
holding the volume of his dreams,
right angled secession.
clarity of logic refracts the spectrum.

Now my illustrations will go sight unseen,
as I place the enchanted papers between
the pages in my journal
of magic
trick
streams.

Water Through The Trees

The sun greets me each morning and I wake feeling disconnected from its warmth. Shadows linger in corners as I reach out to touch my fingertips to my mirrored reflection.

Days have turned into weeks, years folding inward to months.

The only constant is the lake and the secrets it keeps for us.

Often I have considered revisiting the edge of summer waters where once we loved. But I am weak. I have seen the lake through the trees and am frightened. I fear if I visit those shores, the memories of you won't be waiting for me.

Your death has caused me to have a mournful amnesia. I no longer recall what life was before you. The girl I was while we were together is now gone forever.

I should have stayed with you when you called for me. Youth made of me a fool.

Fingertip memories still haunt my wrists, reminding me your touch as I tried to walk away. I struggled not to tell you how I was simply reacting to circumstances for which I had no control. I struggled not to return to the comfort of your collapsing arms.

I was too young to realize the ramifications of my cowardliness and so, I said nothing. I left you there, as your eyes searched the water for answers, even as your voice called the name I will never again allow a man to call me. I lost you and my identity there on those banks.

My steps were the beacon of desertion, though my bewildered heart lingered there with you. God, how I wish now that I would have met your eyes with my own one last time. I should have smiled at you as reassurance that the "4 ever" we wrote was the forever we meant.

Tortured by "what could have been" scenarios, regret plagues my mind.

Hectic paces of life incite short span reprieves from longing. When again you visit me during restless slumbers, I feel like I have betrayed you. I awake crying too often, as the remembrance of your voice harasses me in ghostly callings. For me, there is no escape.

"Your heart won't let you forget me and neither will I," you said once. I hate that you were right.

Violence stole from us the opportunity for me to right this wrong. Pistols shot any chance I had to apologize for killing myself in this process. I pray now you knew I was unable to retrieve from you my love.

They say that you have no grave marker to show where your body lies. I have not, nor will I ever visit that place to know this for certain.

I prefer to instead think that you wait beside the water's edge waiting for me. Muscular outline of the shoulders which once held me with ease shadowed in midnight suns. I stand behind you, your eyes liftly slowly. I see again the mischievous glint in your eyes which first intrigued me.

I hear your call, but can never seem to get close enough to reach you. Perhaps I finally should turn to walk away from you, as once I did before. But, I am can not do so, not as long as I am still able to see the water through the trees.

YOU DO NOT MOVE ME

Imperious confrontation

negates fruitless contemplations.

Acceptance of frustrations,

far too many have evolved complacent.

Strength is not physical prowess,

rather it is the spirit resurrecting the prowl.

Standing in the face of aberration

the condemning of edification,

as tainted opinions

are leering down

upon you.

Yet you refuse to look at them,

for you are looking past them,

over them

and through them.

Visions seen through the reflection of your past

emblazing the very waters your soul drinks from,

as your purpose

becomes

visible.

As you recognize that "One Nation Indivisible"

does not mean that your thirst for unity

can be quenched by opportunities

to accept a sip of malice,

offered by callous

brothers who would not spit on you

if you were on fire.

And the fire that burns

from the core of your pain

ignites a fury in your brain.

Enraged, your soul exclaims

"You do not move me!"

You do not move me

with your animosity.

You do not move me

with your ignorance,

or your insufferable stupidity

or the disgusting words

you chose to describe me.

You do not move me

when you push me.

Know that

I do not just stand here before you,

I stand AGAINST you.

I do not just accept your hatred,

I thrive off of it,

I consume and ingest it,

molesting it with the truth

you can not steal from me.

You do not move me,

and you can not change me.

You can not silence me

and the silent things you are

thinking of me,

only serve to fill me

with power.

The power of unity

which you detest,

is the unity which we possess,

For this I will hold no regret.

The pressure that once pressed

against my temple

is now pressed against your hand,

as my temple

stands firm.

Though you only see

one woman standing defiantly,

there are legions of women

men and children behind me,

in support their spirits uplift me,

invoking thee

to sustain me.

So shove your idiocy,

your hypocrisy,

and absurdities against me,

and you will most assuredly see,

that

You do not move me.

For

I

have

already

moved on.

(c) T. H. 2009

WORST YET TO COME

I am slightly embarrassed to admit
That I misinterpreted his ability
to write journals of insightful poetry
To then mean that he could easily read me.
But the lines at the corners of my eyes
Were seen by him to be only a beautiful sign of aging
And no amount of lyrical lines on a page
Could ever be expressed to him in such a way
That he might then gain an understanding.

Nights of torturous questioning,
words screamed in angered supposition
As another man’s jealous accusations were hurled
Yanking me violently from my slumber
like Cyclonic winds ripping at skin
exposing the skeleton Of some imagined hidden secrets.
Denying sins I had never committed
Giving exacting accounts and details of every minute
Spent out of his presence until such time as he was satisfied
That my eyes weren’t hiding behind them
any
clandestine
meetings.

Beatings for affairs never came
with ample warning in which to escape them
And my attempts to escape from him where always thwarted
By my bodies inability to go without sleep
For that seemed to always be the time in which he captured me
Glaring down with eyes of murderous contempt
His lungs consuming stale air like the bulls charging in Pamplona
Until fists crushed bones like ice
Shattering the security found only in dreamless coma.

And for me, there came no justice
Just us
fighting endless night after another
Police gritting their teeth
inspecting fresh bruises coloring my cheek
Saying to me
“That’s what you white bitches get when you marry brothas.”
And, please, would someone tell me who the hell
Orders of protection serve to protect
To a man who worries not if newspapers
print stories about his crimes
After he’s sent home from doing state time STILL on paper

Years spent contemplating and
seduced by the plotting of his revenge.
For him, not a question of right or wrong,
but rather
just
one
more
good
opportunity.

First steps of freedom upon concrete lead him directly
Into the direction of the city
where I laid my head at night
Locks on doors in hidden buildings are no protection.
Not from a man consumed
by imagined thoughts of my indiscretions
Sensations tingling for slight seconds
before knuckles met flesh.

Only the sandman heard me confess that this time
I wish
he’d
just
kill
me,
for living on the run is slow torturous execution for the crime
Of only attempting of to protect myself.
So forgive me if even though years have passed
I still don't sleep lightly.

Nightmares of the nightmare I survived from
Still taunt me,
and the demons of my past are so haunting
That napping for half hour increments
Leave the skin around my eyes wrinkled.
Though now, the new love I’ve just discovered
Doesn’t understand that
when he pulls the covers over our heads
So as to make love to me in the safety of our bed
I just feel…
uneasy.

Though I may be insecurities about my body
I insist that we still leave the lights on
With a hidden knife close by head
And when he kisses away
the tears from my colorless cheeks
After he shaken me awake from night terrors he
Just doesn’t
Understand.
He whispers sweet, healing poetry
Naively thinking his rhymes can erase these lines
around my eyes

But what he does not know
is that while he rest there comfortably
In the bed at night sleeping
I instead like awake waiting

For the

worst

yet

to come.