April 18, 2021
Photo by Ralph Whitehead
Denying Integrity
by NetaQ
I am furious at the world
A wolverine’s rage thrashing
Tormented, decimating kindness,
Where it once existed
I don’t care that just a few
People aren’t good
I care that six and more good humans
Can no longer feel the warmth of
Hugs from sons and daughters
The whole world is shaking
And should crack for us
A cavernous scar - absent of life
I matter. We matter.
You matter.
Final Recipe
By NetaQ
When the woman in mirror
Looks back at me
Elongated neck poised
stifled by vanity
No such promise could
Be valued when not earned
Laid bare is the presumption,
who is and isn't worthy
By thine own hand
Streaked in sunshine
Will I turn flailing
And judged my mirrored hope
A Mona Lisa beauty,
Painted within your confines
A photo captures a soul
And a mirror reflects its light
A Faithful Pilgrimage Feeding My Light
By NetaQ
I know the burden of walking
Darken streets to my car
I was just a girl, now a woman.
Trepidation, a daily foe
Constraints scream
Expectations and traditions
With this gift, I deny my feet
The comfort of concrete
I soar above the trees
Waving my limbs to caress
Branches not rooted in doubt.
I am out of sight and mind -
One with unfurled petals, taunted
By the winds of wisdom
Soothing without purpose or vanity
To see me, you will know
The shape of my lips
Shadow of a rouge cheek
Within these swaying limbs
A timeless knowing, stretches
To roots adorned
I plead my feet to descend,
hope a fervent prayer,
To daytime, but a night in denial.
A Photo Story
By NetaQ
I am more than what you see
Perfection in curves and lines
I remembered scarred hands
Peeling the last orange
Pulpy sweetness pushed against
My lips, the first fruits
No, you eat mom, you need it more
No, open your mouth, my heart
Yes, I was her heart
Cages to trimmed hedges
I still hear my mother’s voice
Her dreams for me
Fighting to conquer a future denied
Traditions be damned
Clothing bespoke expectations
No such cloth is woven in my dreams
My vulnerable nape
Is carrying more than preconceived
A saber sharp edge, slicing
Joy blooms from the discarded shards
I grasp my own fruit and think
Of the one who carried me
See me for not the precursor
To your bad, terrible, no good day
To you an ‘other’ - denied validity
I. Am. My mother’s daughter
Open your mouth, my heart,
Eat, you need it more.