Wednesday, March 7, 2012

A laying on a hands (For Colored Girls Poem)

I was missing something
something so important
something promised
a laying on of hands
fingers near my forehead
strong
cool
moving
making me whole
sense pure
all the gods coming into me
laying me open to myself
I was missing something
something promised
something
free
a laying on of hands
I know bout/laying on bodies/laying outta man
bringing him all of my fleshy self & some of my pleasure
being taken full eager wet like I get sometimes
I was missing something
a laying on of hands
not a man
laying on
not my mama/holding me tight/saying
I’m always gonna be her girl
not a laying on of bosom and womb
a laying on of hands
the holiness of myself released

I sat up one nite walking a boarding house
screaming/crying/the ghost of another woman
who was missing what I was missing
I wanted to
jump up outta my bones
& be done with myself
leave me alone
& go on in the wind
it was too much
I fell into a numbness
til the only tree I cd see
took me up in her branches
held me in the breeze
made me dawn dew
that chill at daybreak
the sun wrapped me up swinging rose light everywhere
the sky laid over me like a million men
I was cold/I was burning up/a child
& endlessly weaving garments for the moon
with my tears
I found god in myself
& I loved her/I loved her fiercely

6 comments:

  1. This poem speaks directly to me. I almost let somebody run off with all my stuff. But I began to realize that I needed my stuff. I felt a laying on of hands and I feel new

    i

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  2. I love this poem........I'm missing something promised

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  3. This poem is so alive and is truly applicable for all generations. This poem moved me to tears, a cry so soul replenishing as to give me a new lease on life. Thank you.

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  4. This poem spoke to my soul! Too often I allow a man to run off with all my stuff! But not this time Im keeping my stuff to myself!

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  5. I found myself in myself and now I celebrate her everyday, ��.

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  6. I found myself in myself and now I celebrate her everyday, ��.

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