Love and sensitivity

i wrote this poem back in june 2022. im just now getting the courage to post it as i'm watching the Toni Morrison documentary for the second time. she has such a magical way about her and as i dream of that magic i felt compelled to share this poem. originally when i wrote this poem the muse was my mother. but after i read it over and over i realized that in envisioning her, i am envisioning a version of myself. one that may be distant/familiar and even intimidating... and in the discomfort of that thought, i then began to see the parts of myself that are innate by blood... and by love- and it felt too personal to share. but watching this documentary has reawakened me to beauty of sharing the personal moments, memories, feelings. concepts, things. there is power is vulnerability and liberation in expression. thts why i started this blog in the first place---so enjoy

she looked up at you with those

stubborn eyes and that

stubborn hair.

she had a

gaze of welcoming butterflies

that could often be swallowed

by the fiery storm she had hidden inside

washed up shore dreams and sailboats of self doubt. . .

the ocean she swam was rough

her fault not the slightest,

one of generational homicides of

love and sensitivity

and love and sensitivity

these crimes of humanity not live amongst her but within her

so for that,,, and

much

much

more

her heart was guarded by her

great wall of china gestures that let you know

you are not fully trusted nor fully welcome

barricaded out of habit, out of need;

out of fear

her fault not the slightest, but one of

generational homicides of

love and sensitivity

and love and sensitivity