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 Mar 2015 Alia C
lX0st
Gardens
 Mar 2015 Alia C
lX0st
Rose petal lips
A velvety kiss
How sweet it tastes
To be rooted in this
Breathtaking bliss
 Mar 2015 Alia C
Fah
For all the women in my family who have come before me.

I vow now
to give myself the space to be kind to myself when I am faced
with our family pattern of self-hate

I will not spit in my face and demolish myself
I will stand with forgiveness
dripping from my eyes

I vow now
to utilize the opportunity
I have been given
of being free from the burden of being molested or ***** as a child,
I vow to respect myself, share my body with this respect
give my partner this respect and dance
the life giving creation song       with a heart

fleshy and vulnerable
landscapes of plains and bayous rising up across my skin, my folds will nestle medicine gardens
Inside of my ears I will plant Ceder trees

I will step into my strength, into my power I will rise
like a hot air current moving from the land up to the sky to form storm clouds
in a system of elegant design

I recognize
with this mighty power comes the power to be gentler still
so whilst the storm plays her play, I will also maintain
the quivering softness of a spring stream
high up in the mountains green
long grass wildflowers
melt from within me

fragrance heavenly.

For all of us I vow
to live a life where I utilize the power I have inherited
and I thank you
with these actions,
I write your songs in my movements
Your strength, poise, grace, ambition and genius has not gone in vain
Your stories live on inside of my veins

with these words I call out to you.
I thank you for your hard graft
I thank you for your silence
I thank you for your grace and your poise
I thank you for your strength
and I thank you
thank you
thank you
 Mar 2015 Alia C
Fah
Responsibility is so rare in those who leak their oily fingers across rivers and into bloodstreams, toxic waste never tasted as good as refined sugars.

Some people find themselves desperate.
That’s what happens when the community is run on decision
fueled by fear.
It murders the capacity to react
whilst exposing all of the soft, fleshy bits that constitute a human.

Oh yes,
split dinosaur bones and acid poured on a young woman’s face in North London are connected.
Lacerations of the largest mine in the world cut across the face of earth like another young woman who could not pay a sufficient dowry.
Oh yes those two events are connected.

To the men who sign the papers or wield the knife or pour the acid your payment is also desolation
your eyes will also be blinded and your face scared,
the trauma will live on inside of you as you see earth mother dug out,
kilo by kilo

You have silenced the very thing that makes you alive.
Oh yes.

The current schooling system of sit down, ask permission, don’t be late or I will hurt you in some way is connected to those men and their disassociation with their humanity.

It is connected to the women who can not love themselves and apologize for every moment of their existence not in words but in actions and not in actions but beliefs and not in beliefs but in pure, boiling hatred of being a woman because since the time of classic antiquity men have been hating the mother.

Oh yes,
the sugar and chemicals added to our diets combined with pharmaceutical money oriented ideology
year after year
are connected with every case of suicide, every act of homicide every police brutality every bill passed by a man who thinks the womb can be accessed through the stomach.

These events that are the cornerstones of our current society
hold a space that allows and encourages the greediest, meanest
most scheming parts of us to surface, dusted in powdered sugar and sing hallelujah.

It relies on the desensitized laziness of ourselves, it relies on us to keep on believing.

A red string ties these events together and they are destined to meet again and again in livingrooms and in courtrooms, boardrooms and massacres, rapes and violent deaths
At the hands of each other until we stop murdering our own humanity for the sake of an award, the sake of being accepted.

We all have Stockholm’s syndrome.

These institutions and companies are not friends, our captors in the forms of insensitive executions or laws against one another are not our saviors
The people who are making decisions over vast swathes of mother earth land are not our gods who wish to give us sunshine seen on the side of a truck advertisement.

But it may just be our saving grace
our empathy and compassion
fuel to our desires of seeing the world left to future generations
with some dignity
love the mistakes we've made as humans, thank them
for their teachings
and evolve.


These are the strings that bind us together.
( And you think you are not important? You think you make no difference? We are hand cranking the wheels of time over here .)
 Mar 2015 Alia C
Maya Angelou
You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may **** me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.
 Mar 2015 Alia C
Ilva
Beloved
 Mar 2015 Alia C
Ilva
Inside me
While you grew and grew
I never knew
Your heart was broken
And that there was one
Where there should’ve been two.

After you were born
The doctor explained
Your lungs wouldn’t last
You were breathing too fast
And growing too slow
Your blood flow was mixed
And you had to be fixed.

So right from the start
Your heart wasn’t whole
But your soul
Was a universe
And your eyes
Were comprised
Of millions of galaxies.
Your body was strong
And your cry was a song.

I named you beloved
And through you, I discovered
For the very first time
I was whole.

Please always remember
You are far more beautiful
Than broken
You are my ultimate inspiration
And I’ll always consider you
My most perfect creation.
I wrote this for my 6-month-old baby when she was having heart repair surgery done to fix a serious congenital heart defect (truncus arteriosus). She survived the operation, and spent a month in hospital to recover. Six months later, however, she got broncho-pneumonia and the added stress on her heart caused her to go into cardiac arrest & she passed away.

— The End —