the skin gig
(by Tiffany Sankofa)
you left it here;
your skin gig,
the one that carried you
through your life,
my life with you.
the skin that received me
when we hugged
the skin that delivered
your palm to mine
the skin
I comforted you through
with strokes and care
the skin
that eventually
just
couldn’t,
you left it behind
because it was
the only way
to finalize your divorce
with illness.
I understand;
I’m grateful
you are free.
they say that energy
never dies
and so I talk with you
sometimes, I’m sure you hear,
and I seem to
hear you back;
other times I am sure
you do not.
Still more times
I think I’m just crazy,
delusional,
making wishes
on your stardust,
but it’s comforting,
so I don’t care.
I’m grateful
to connect
even if it turns out
I was just connecting
with the parts of you
that I made mine.
But all of that gratitude
all of that relief
all of that joy for you –
being done with all of
this,
doesn’t take the place
of your skin
I feel I should
end this with a period
because skin ends,
returns to the Mother
recycled to nourish
what’s still here
but that means,
your skin is still here
also
transformed also
and so I will
just …
Grief Seed
(by Tiffany Sankofa)
Hard seed
ground deep
into Mother Earth
thrust and crushed in;
the impression
of the boot
lingers.
Hard seed
protects itself from
the cold surrounding it;
the swirling memory of what
once was.
The sky waters it
with Her tears
softening the outer shell
calling to something
buried
deep within,
something green
tender
new,
and terrifying.
Hard shell holds
tighter –
No no no no!
No more vulnerability;
Unable to contemplate
more change
more unpredictability
more pain.
But the water keeps coming
and the shell keeps softening.
Fear turns to rage
as the seed rails
against all
that has happened,
and not happened.
Mournful cries
of no no no no
burst forth
in a fiery screaming shriek
of
NNNNNOOOOOOOOO!!!!
The passion and pain
drive her energy
up, through,
the fingers of Mother Earth
who lovingly protects her journey.
Mother Earth chants
in rhythm with the
once hard seed’s scream;
No no no
met with
Yes yes yes
The seed
hurtles upward
crashing and breaking
the once hard-now soft
crust of dirt.
Mother Earth’s chants
massage the
new green shoot
screaming its way
toward the
healing warmth
of the Sun.
She Missed Her Birthday Again
(by Tiffany Sankofa)
Ma!
You missed your birthday again.
It’s the 8th time.
I guess you don’t need them anymore.
You always were
trying to simplify.
What could be better
feng shui
than not being stuck
in a body at all?
Well played, holl.
Well played.
Now
I am free to love you
Fiercely
without the sting
of necessary losses.
You probably no longer care
that I pierced my nose
that I outswear
the USMC
that I’m wilde and passionate and
unapologetic in my
perfectly flawed ways.
Now
I am free to
dwell
in the
order, liturgy,
gentleness, quiet
where you could
feel
your connectedness
to all.
We meet together
in ethereal whimsy
in the spaces in between
in the quiet beats
when i remember to notice
or when you convince
a mocking bird
to follow and harass me.
We meet together
in ancestral circles
in our dedicated plot
to overthrow the planet
with crazy things like
Mutuality
Respect
Compassion
Open-hearted hospitality
And Love.
All things in a circle.
We have both
dropped our shoulds
our have to’s
our musts.
We have shed
the roles we held
this time around,
returning to
simple souls
twined up together,
walking through
the muck and the mystery
together
as it always has been.
May I borrow
Your Happy Birthday?
I mean,
you aren’t using it.
I’ll send up some
yellow balloons,
notice some
simple flowers,
amplify and support
a tender, muted voice,
go find
some Mischief
to sprinkle
in your honor,
saturated
with gratitude.
And while it is
likely irrelevant
to you, now,
in my still limited way
of celebrating
A L L
that the subtle dash
reverently holds:
holly elaine mueller (willis) slaugh
December 4, 1939 ~ September 4, 2014