Loving in 1967

And I wonder how many of my grandmother's mothers lost themselves before daybreak. Men drunk on moonlight with idling feet, little girls torn from bed sheets. And I’m afraid, that my father’s mother lost herself before knowing who she was. Fifteen year old girl minding her own business, how could she live this way always looking over her shoulder fearing anyone older, and I lay awake at night staring at the creases in the ceiling and I tell myself I’m healing, kneeling by my bed palms resting on my head. She is dead now. But I wonder if she ever really lived. Life down South post secession, men felt entitled to teach us a lesson. There is so much danger in darkness and there’s no hiding in the aura of his eyes. In the silence her breath is a lullaby, he is drawn to her, but shhhhh it's all hush hush. She’s afraid of the light and the night, a shadow on the floor, she lies crucified and bleeding near the door. Dirt dances on the tip of her tongue, she prays only that tonight sleep won’t find her. Dragging memories of sweaty boys grease-stained and grimy pushing themselves in and out and in until the sun comes up. and I wonder if he cared that it was only the sun that burned her skin black and she’s blue and he knew she was younger on the inside than the out. Count to ten and its over nine and she's broken eight bleeding five lying four dying three women crying and I wonder, if it’s okay to be dead if your life was a nightmare. And who cares, that she trusted God to stop this damnation this nation chaining my family to subordination. I am just so sick of losing my body, and I am afraid of the dark.