I Remember How Being Young And Black

I Am A Post-mastectomy Woman Who Believes Our Feelings Need Voice In Order To Be Recognized, Respected, And Of Use.

We Are Powerful Because We Have Survived

I Am A Bleak Heroism Of Words That Refuse To Be Buried Alive With The Liars.

Nothing I Accept About Myself Can Be Used Against Me To Diminish Me. I Am Who I Am, Doing What I Came To Do, Acting Upon You Like A Drug Or A Chisel To Remind You Of Your Me-ness, As I Discover You In Myself.

. . . It Is Through Poetry That We Give Name To Those Ideas Which Are-until The Poem-nameless And Formless, About To Be Birthed, But Already Felt.