Black Body, Queer Spirit

By: Tyree Jackson I. I am one with who I am. I own my black body and I cherish my queer spirit. In this world, I cannot deny either, for they both have equal claim to my existence. Together and not separate, black body, queer spirit. II. Silence: noun, “Refusal or failure to speak out.” My body, covered with the majestic colors of the rainbow. The decisions I’ve made, engraved on stone—this is who I want to be. My identity, concealed within cobble-stoned walls of my insecurities. Unlaced from the very fabric I considered to be my home. My mouth, filled with tar—I can’t tell my family the truth. I can’t speak of it. I faced the glare of those who disapprove of my existence. Assorted taboos are thrown at my very difference like stones. I am labeled derogatory words—words profoundly tattooed on my brain tissue. The tears I’ve cried would spill over in cups. The bruises’ I’ve endured would make healing impossible. I can’t speak of it. Torn between two worlds— however, forced to adapt to both. My emotions drained; my hopes of liberation depleted; my dreams of existence, misplaced in the sands of time. I can’t speak of it. Let me break the silence.