Mahogany L. Browne, 2 poemas 2

“I was told to dream — dream big,” 
Credit Jasmine Clarke for The New York Times

LITANY

I wish I knew how

It would feel to be free

I wish I could break

All the chains holding me

               —Nina Simone

today i am a black woman in america

& i am singing a melody ridden lullaby

it sounds like:

              the gentrification of a brooklyn stoop

              the rent raised three times my wages

              the bodega and laundromat burned down on the corner

              the people on the corner

                          each lock & key their chromosomes

                          a note of ash & inquiry on their tongues

 

today i am a black woman in a hopeless state

i will apply for financial aid and food stamps

          with the same mouth i spit poems from

i will ask the angels of a creative god to lessen

          the blows

& i will beg for forgiveness when i curse

          the rising sun

today, i am a black woman in a body of coal

i am always burning and no one knows my name

i am a nameless fury, i am a blues scratched from

the throat of ms. nina—i am always angry

i am always a bumble hive of hello

i love like this too loudly, my neighbors

think i am an unforgiving bitter

            sometimes, i think my neighbors are right

            most times i think my neighbors are nosey

today, i am a cold country, a storm

brewing, a heat wave of a woman wearing

red pumps to the funeral of my ex-lover's

today, i am a woman, a brown and black &

brew woman dreaming of freedom

today, i am a mother, & my country is burning

           and i forget how to flee

from such a flamboyant backdraft

                       —i’m too in awe of how beautiful i look

            on fire

Originalmente publicado en Poem-a-Day 25/05/2016, por Academy of American Poets

THIS IS THE HONEY

There is no room on this planet for anything less than a miracle

We gather here today to revel in the rebellion of a silent tongue

Every day, we lean forward into the light of our brightest designs

       & cherish the sun

Praise our hands & throats

       each incantation, a jubilee of a people dreaming wildly

Despite the dirt

beneath our feet

or the wind

pushing against

our greatest efforts

Soil creates things

Art births change

This is the honey

       & doesn’t it taste like a promise?

Where your heart is an accordion

       & our laughter is a soundtrack

Friend, dance to this good song—

look how it holds our names!

Each bone of our flesh-homes sings welcome

O look at the Gods dancing

       as the rain reigns against a steely skyline

Where grandparents sit on the porch & nod at the spectacle

in awe of the perfection of their grandchildren’s faces

Each small discovery unearthed in its own outpour

Tomorrow our daughters will travel the world with each poem

       & our sons will design cities against the backdrops of living museums

       Yes! Our children will spin chalk until each equation bursts a familial tree

Rooted in miraculous possibilities

& alive

Mahogany L. Browne  

(California, EE.UU., 1976)

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