10.17.2012

I AM

by Latorial Faison

I am somebody on my way somewhere.
I am she who interrogates those who stare.
I am too much for this wayward world to digest.
With pen and paper, I paint pictures with frankness.

I am the pages, I am the pens.
What whiteness begins, my blackness ends.
I am the black man's rage, the black woman's stage.
If you care to recognize, just turn the page.

I am the journey, the memory of yesterdays.
I am the surprising result of evil ways.
I am Jesus Christ crucified.
They hang me high and stretch me wide.

I am the ears that hear the cries of the deaf.
I am fingers picking up those pieces left.
I am the hands that write the words.
I am the prophet you've never heard.

I am the music that bears the beat.
I am the stranded enduring the heat.
I am the parent who lives with the shame.
Of children who step outside the family name.

I am the rape victim turned inside out.
I am the child abused who cannot shout.
I am black America's complex.
I am white America's "What's next?"

I am Dr. King's Dream.
I am Malcolm's extreme.
I am the Catholic Pope's next big issue.
For every child politics leaves behind, I am the tissue.

I am the dream dared, the broken repaired.
I am the truth challenged, the minority compared.
I am the arrival of hope, the departure of pain.
The explanation of turmoil, sanity for the insane.

I am somebody, on my way somewhere.
I am she who interrogates those who stare.
I am too much for this wayward world to digest.
With pen and paper, I paint pictures with frankness.



Copyright © 2005-2008 Latorial D. Faison | www.latorialfaison.com
from Twenty-eight Days of Poetry Celebrating Black History Volume 2 (2008)

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