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Solfadri Dec 2017
Estaba en ese momento, de sentirme a lado de la estatua de Pípila,
Mirando las ventanas de la ciudad abajo comenzando a encenderse,
cambiando a estrellas, casi reflejando el cielo nocturno,
brillante, aclarando e iluminando los colores fuertes
de las casas,
oyendo la gente en el centro, bailando en la plaza,
enfrente del Teatro Juárez.
Oyendo el ruido
y la música
llenando las calles.
oliendo la dulce, rica comida,
envuelto en la cálida brisa,
acariciando mi cara
es cuando comprendí algo,
algo elusivo.
Es como ese sentimiento que tenías
cuando eras joven, de no preocuparte por nada,
la sensación de libertad, como si el mundo fuera infinito
y todo fuera nuevo.
Antes de decidir que sabíamos cómo funcionan
los humanos.
Antes de llegar a ser arrogantes,
Creo que en ese momento, bajo la luna,
entendí que
todas las personas son iguales
pero todas son completamente diferentes,
que hay otros mundos que son exactamente tan grandes como el mío,
de los que no conozco absolutamente nada.
Que aún hay maravilla en este mundo, incluso en mi propia vida,
y que la única constante en la vida es que siempre habrá más,
que aprender, que vivir, que ver,
y que no se puede conocer completamente a una persona,
que todo es demasiado profundo,
que en realidad no conozco nada,
y que eso me hace sumamente feliz.
El primero en Español
Solfadri Dec 2014
One day
The man hanging from the tree,
The man murdered, lying in the street,
will have just the right shade of cocoa skin,
and just the right reputation.
He would have no trace of criminal record,
No stain on his character.
He would have worshiped just the right God.
He would have befriended
just the right people,
and dawned just the right smile,
He would have stood the perfect height,
had the perfect family,
the perfect teeth, face, everything.
He would be just right enough
for them to care.
He would be so perfect,
the thought of justifying
his ****** ?
Slander. Scandal.
He would be just right
Just good enough.
But then again,
They murdered MLK
Emmett T
Roman D
Addie C
Denise M
Carole R
Cynthia W.
Wharlest J.
They murdered Jesus Christ,
and went about their day.
Black Lives Matter.
Solfadri Feb 2014
We fought our way through the blackness,
My blackness.
And I was unwilling to go back,
Even for her.
Even for her Uncle in Georgia
Who outlined the pocketknife pressing
Through his denim jeans with his finger
Upon witnessing the virulence of my blackness.
Even for the humor her grandma found
In the blackness she knew, and the
Blackness she so desperately wanted me to be.
I didn’t find it humorous.
We fought our way through the blackness
My blackness,
But once escaped, I stood petrified.
Afraid of going back,
Even for her.
Even for Mr. and Mrs. Corfen
Who “Just aren’t used to it.”
Even for trips to the mall where she lived
Where women clutched purses
Further away from my belligerent,
Offensive basketball shorts.
Even for summer’s best feature film
Where I am mocked.
I was unwilling. I was petrified.
That is, until I glanced up from the
Cheesecake on the black and white checkered table.
Until the shock of her blue eyes,
(Like an eclipse of the sun in the midst of the ocean),
Made me realize,
It’s not about me.
Solfadri Jan 2014
I am not as quick as my mother,
She has long, sturdy brown legs.
Her oak tail fades to white at the edges.
It always bristles.
She is always so worried,
But she keeps me safe.

Father’s tail was biggest in the group
Before he died.
They said he was killed by Loud Noise.
His body emptied its red
Spilling over fur, leaves, and into the soil.
We saw him, tongue flopped out of his mouth.
Mother’s tail bristled.

We left him out of respect and love.
Leader says he should die in the arms of the nature that bore him.
Mother agrees, no disturbance.
The leaves nourished him, and the berries gave him strength.
Nothing belongs to anyone alone,
It was time he return what he had taken from nature.
No disturbance.

Mother says she saw Father leave.
She says she saw nature move and drag him away.
The leaves and twigs wrapped around his antlers,
And took him to rest.
She said the nature looked at her
She says its eyes are blue.

Mother is thankful.
She says nature has chosen Father
To watch us.
She says he keeps us safe.

The leader has spoken
It’s no longer safe for us to live here.
He says we have to cross the Hard Grey
Into the safe northern regions.

Mother made sure I ate my berries
We thanked nature
And left our home.

It is dark, and the Hard Grey is barely recognizable.
At the Hard Grey, the leader
Goes quickly across.
He disappears behind the green brown shrubs
On the other side.
Mother makes the others go first.
She always worries.

Mother moves swiftly
Darting straight across the Hard Grey
With ease.
She beckons me, her tail bristled.
She is always so worried,
But I love her
She keeps me safe.

I keep my eyes on her as I begin to cross the Hard Grey.
I pass the gold strip in the center.
Mother darts into the shrubs behind her.
I stop. I don’t understand.
Bright Light.

On the other side
Father greets me.
I relax.
His tail doesn't bristle.
I am in the safe forest now.
Solfadri Jan 2014
Hostile tone, generalizations
Glaring eyes, wide mouth,
Volume high.
I came from work
Four hours late, overtime.
Feet bleeding in these heels.
Venom is all you can vouchsafe me.
Hate. Carelessly spitting fire.
I remember dependence and love,
Your small heart tapping against my ribs.
The child’s capability to understand that
they don’t understand.
The contentment
the trust.
Ha! My hopes for the future.
10 years later your mind has opened.
Your words eloquently strung between expletives
Your lack of respect an obvious indicator of your superior knowledge.
No ability to see from another’s point of view
a sign of immaturity, unbeknownst to you.
No, I can’t take you to Brittani’s house,
It’s ten o’clock, I’m tired.
You scream the injustices of a slave
as I head to my room.
Despite all of it,
I still love you,
And one day you’ll love me again,
too.
Solfadri Nov 2013
A single black monolith
nothing more?
So why don't we bring ourselves up?
No, why don't we fight them instead?
Hit them so hard they remember
there are more nations here than states there
fight them until they see that diversity
shouldn't be smudged.
Our name is so sad in their minds,
and so distorted on their lips.
"African."
Solfadri Jul 2013
Southern trees still bear strange fruit,
but not so common are they now.
The fruit has adapted and spread.
It infects the mind and distorts sight.
It grows like weeds on the sides of the roads,
and spreads like wildfire in the hearts of men.
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