My Name is Faith…
I was born
on a Louisiana morning at 7:49 AM,
a Sunday,
my favorite day.
It reminds me
when they say,
“And God created the heavens and the Earth
and on the 7th day SHE rested…,”
well I know on that Sunday,
God stayed up just to take her time with me.
I’m a double Pisces, Sun and Moon
like Erykah Badu.
I guess this means
that I’m the best thing to ever happen
to anyone in my life.
It’s true, I do think this.
I find myself hilarious too.
I’m delusional
enough to believe that everything I touch is magic.
I’m a magician! I’m also a kid!
I dream a lot,
but for years now I’ve had this nightmare
that I’m getting chased,
and sometimes, being chased in my dreams
is the only time where I feel wanted.
Dear self,
“you’re great,
and if anyone hasn’t told you today
baby, I LOVE YOU! You are wanted.”
When I was younger,
I used to have conversations with myself for
hours on end, I was my FIRST best friend.
Have you ever, have you ever broken up
with a best friend?
I miss me.
“Hey Faith! Hey Faith, do you remember
when they used to ask us…
Why are you always smiling?
Ain’t nothing to be happy about.
When we used to live in that constant state
of GRATITUDE and LIFE,
life just tasted so much better that way
so we smiled.”
I miss that too.
Lately, I do this thing
where I get really emotional in public.
It’s like my eyes are opening. I just see
Like I can look at you,
and I see you
And I see you
And I see you
And you are all so beautiful
And then I go home and I have a hard time
seeing myself.
I have a complicated relationship with
mirrors.
I used to avoid them completely.
I couldn’t understand why God
would put me in this skin.
Like me, God is also a Magician.
Like me, everything she touches is magic,
she has given me the Light of the Sun.
The only trade,
is others would wish that they could LIGHT like me.
Take their desires and twist them to envy
my BEAUTY.
Is this why they treated me like a rotten tree?
Went on for so long I believed
their stories were my reality.
I’m the seed! I can see! My ENERGY is so high
not even the sky can reach.
I’m ABUNDANT.
I can thank my ancestors for that.
I do not mind sharing.
Sometimes though, I fly so high I forget
what it feels like…
to breathe…
I feel lost, I haven’t felt home for a while
I’m not tied down to any place or any person
And sometimes, I lose the keys to the walls
I’ve built inside of myself
So not even my own body feels like a safe space
“Dear Faith,
I hear you.”
I’ve been talking to myself again
And for the first time in years,
I FINALLY FEEL HEARD.
My Name Is FAITH.
She means, unwavering TRUST.
I’ve been trusting myself again.
And seeing how high my seed could truly reach.
Last night, I had a dream
Where I looked into the mirror…,
but this time, I wasn’t being chased
Hey Faith,
I SEE YOU.
I Cleaned My…
belly button today.
I took a shower,
I brushed my teeth,
I did not floss.
But I am still going
to grant myself the win.
I ate a meal today.
I would be lying
if I said it was a full meal.
I drank my tears for dinner.
I fixed myself sleep for dessert.
Can they call it an eating disorder
when it’s just depression.
Can they call it an eating disorder
when at least I—
swallowed something.
At least I digested my
emotions long enough
to not throw them back up
onto someone else.
Can they call it depression…
when the hurt was self inflicted?
When I stayed in the relationship
longer than I know I should have?
When I chose
*****silence*****
over my own sanity.
See one day,
one day I learned
that the speed of sound is faster
underwater
and ever since then,
I’ve been wondering if you could
hear my screams LOUDER
when I swallowed them.
When I made a deactivated bomb
out of my throat
and pushed away
the need to be heard by you.
I cleaned my belly button today.
I did my laundry
I didn’t fold my clothes
But I did take them out of the dryer
I processed my emotions today.
I processed.
I processed.
I—
processed.
Until I couldn’t process anymore.
It’s crazy.
How one person,
Can chemically alter the neurons
in my brain to the point of no
return.
Will I ever find myself again?
Will I ever come home to myself?
There are days, where driving my
own vehicle takes too much
strength to muster.
Where Sadness
takes over the wheel.
With anxiety in the back seat in
charge of the map.
And sometimes
Sometimes I try to squeeze my way
into the passenger seat
But,
DOUBT and DISTRUST
are always fighting over shotgun.
There are times where my car
Where this vessel
Is just too full for me to fit in
So, I surrender my body
to travel on autopilot.
Destination, a place where I feel SAFE
And the map reads,
“Error, the place you are trying to
reach may not be found.”
New Destination,
HOME
And the map reads,
“Error, the place you are trying to
reach may not be found
outside of YOURSELF.”
I have been searching, for myself,
for so long, I do not know where to
look anymore.
So I figured I’d start by…
Or maybe I’d try to…
I guess, I guess, I guess, I guess
I’d clean my belly button today.
I’d get out of bed. I’d water my plants…
and my soul.
I’m healing.
Enough to not blame the damage
you’ve done.
On YOU.
Which is More…
Uncomfortable?
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the SILENCE
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or my BEING in the middle of it.
It’s ironic
How my existence
is often
the loudest thing in the room
How my voice
is often
the first thing
to be silenced in the room
It’s interesting.
Growing up,
Queer Black Girl in America.
To have my skin,
be deemed a walking protest.
My sexuality,
feet marching in the street.
My gender,
this country’s answered yet
forgotten prayer.
The first time that I realized,
that to bring my skin with me
anywhere that I went
was to default me the next martyr.
I was 19.
I was on my way to see my
girlfriend at a party.
I drove in behind the police.
Hooked a U-turn
at the edge of the cul-de-sac.
Decided to go
and wait at the nearest Whataburger.
It be,
2 o’clock in the morning
It be,
the South side of the San Antonio.
Practically the boondocks.
I go inside
I sit down in the middle of the restaurant.
My skin fills the room,
White boy decides
that I am taking up too much space.
That I am invading his personal space.
That he ought to say something
about this as if my presence,
be potential threat
Say, “HEY YOU!”
I say nothing,
“HEY YOU!”
I choose silence.
Remember the training
of the default next martyr.
Remember how this country has
convinced us that SILENCE,
is the only
protest we can afford.
“HEY YOU.”
I freeze.
With two words
and an unfortunate familiar tone
White boy guns down
Queer Black Girl’s spirit.
Leaves her for dead.
The next morning.
Queer Black Girl is lucky enough
to wake
up with shattered pieces of herself.
Is lucky enough to not be the next
hashtag,
the next trending headline.
Remembers how he talked to her
Remembers how the white girl laughed
Remembers how everyone witnessed
and no one cared to save her in the
****silence****.
And I wonder,
When will we finally stand up?
When will we collectively speak OUT?
When,
will the Queer Black Girl,
finally be able to leave her house.
Knowing,
she is coming back HOME.
Knowing…
You will not lose US…
to the
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SILENCE
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