Ocean - lilting azure waves
sway of moon, clouds to hide before the tide
night touching blue - the earth and sky
caressing light - the darkest sea
only a moment
only salt rain

I am underwater
the bottom of a pond
I am not drowning
I am limitless
deep under my own skin
no longer shallow
like puddles and schoolgirls
dancing with deities
I am happy to be here
I am a child
And now I am

In the mornings, I love myself
From the flecks of blue surrounding my pupils, to the fragile bones in my hands.
In the afternoons, I'm not sure.
I grow indifferent to this in-between body, not ugly but not pretty.
During the nights, I hate myself
From my disproportioned legs to my artificial smile.

Blue lake, iridescent dawn
soft foggy swan, swimming silent watery sun
mourning breeze of graceful wings
flies the fog, away with the bonny swan
to see with clarity
a smokey bank
now undone

Your couch has gone from
Mysterious to
Comfortable, quickly to
Inviting, and then
Peaceful,
Becoming necessary and
Right before my eyes it changes to
Lusting, then a chance of
Loving, and back to lusting, until
Another wide turn to the start:
Mysterious.
But it never goes back to
Comfortable again, it is
Frightening, another change
To inevitable,
Controlling to
Addicting, and soon
I am thinking in
Circles, back to lusting,
But the couch has stayed
The same, and
It is only me who is seeing things
Differently

I am the most beautiful person I know,
and I surround myself with  hearts equally as beautiful.
We embrace this beautiful gift called life, encouraging our souls to take flight so that we can make this journey the most meaningful.
We are reminded of just how far we've come when we take the time to rest out wings and listen to the ring of our heartbeat.
It is most inspiring.

I'll study the demise in your eyes and wonder if there was ever a time that you cried
For your loss.
I'll copy and trace the structure of your face and realize that
I am you.
Then I will show you a picture of my Dad and tell you but
This
Is my father.
Your genome may construct the structure of my bones but
I am his daughter.
And I am my mother
And I wonder, if you'll find it any if at all meaningful-
When I look you in the eyes and ask you
How someone so ugly
Can create something so beautiful.
When God created you,
He created the creation of me
And all I know about my identity is that I'm half Haitian
But that limb fell off from my family tree.
I pray
That God finds it in his heart to love you
Because God doesn't love the ugly.
Fortunately,
My skin may be tinted from the sins that make me your kin
But from the outside in
I look just like my mother.
Do you remember what she looks like?
My name is Rissa Ann Perkins, and I hope that you can't sleep tonight.
I hope that you frame a photo of my face in your brain
And if ever again should you dream,
I hope you wake up screaming my name.
Are you ashamed?
I'm not here to blame you
I came to show you
Just. How. Beautiful. I. Am.
And I just have to know what it feels like
To know that
I
Am you.
You gave me life.
I am you,
And I don't even love you.
So I have to know,
Do you love yourself?

We do not compare to one another.
My skin is the coal the people used. 

Your skin is the powder the flappers adore.
My soul is deep and my heart is pure.
Pure as white!
Your soul is shallow and your heart is dark.
Darker than the skin my people hold.

We may not compare, but you are my brother.
Not by blood
or by class. 

We are fused-

Fused by lives we live and the past we lived 

We are connected forevermore. 


There was a master and he was cruel. 

The crackle of the whip was the electric shock of my greats. There was no hope for the slave that cried.
There was no voice for the slave that remained strong.
Flight was the tantalizing thought.

The slave hadn't a chance to live in flight or freedom.
Their was only the need to fight. 

Fight to live and fight to breathe. 

Those greats so far down kept on fighting. 

They kept on preserving. 

They had their beauty that could never be touched. 



White Man, White Man listen to me. 

I was the coal that was used. 

I was the coal that was taken from its home. 

I was the coal that was discarded and given freedom. 



The flappers are young and they love their powder. 

You will be used and you will become the slave. 

I am the coal that is free. 

You are the powder that is used. 


My beauty will never will fill a white mans body. 

Too much has been seen and too much has been lived. 

No white can hold my strength and no white can hold my beauty. 

They are mine and forever will be.



My soul is deep and my heart is pure.
I shall not be condemned to this life no more.