They say, the dying are greeted, by their mothers
She comes for them at the end
Her love reaching further than bookends
Loving before, when you’re but an idea
A single cluster of cells,
Pregnantly waiting,
For birth

You came into the world quickly,
Precariously, the way you moved in life
Your pace blazing—light speed  
A glow that burned from the beginning

You were likely, the first person I ever held,
Me being too little to hold onto anything much bigger
But of course I adored you right away,
Right from when I first held you,
You made more than a daughter

You left the world quickly too,
during the month the sun burns the hottest,
August sweeping you into the air.
So I wonder, who came for you?

What I like to imagine,
and most desperately hope,
Is that you were greeted by a softness
A loving net cast by our grandmothers
Rocking you slowly
Pulling you back into our linage

wings of birds were stolen by the gods, centuries ago
an earth's day lasts for 86, 400.002 seconds
children are roaming in the mind of these lines
they are counting, playfully and without feelings

days come and go, they float through our lives
i wrote about the stages of dreams and dreamt of an *******
the ruins of old poems are silver, blue and red
remains of a day's thoughts, decoded and clear, similarly

it is not wise to count seconds while you are breathing
it is not wise to count on people while they are leaving
it is strange to use "wise" in order to refer to cleverness
people of color may feel excluded by our languages

in german, "white" is called "weiß" and that sounds like "wise"
explain to me the origins of such a word, i demand it
before the river will have swallowed me; i demand an answer
poems come, poems go, leave a trace, stain – and a change

fools are flodding the streets in order to have a five o'clock tea
proudly, they are talking about their old heroes, bearded conquerors
these guys nevah really wanted to dig strangaz, dey killed 'em.
they killed unknown people, they stabbed my dreams

they murdered ancestors because they were used to murdering
they invented words without speaking but grinning
power is an invisible instrument that consists of hierarchies
power is what we see and oversee, power is the origin of wars

wars are the origin of despair; and that is nothing new
wars, though, may be invisible and silent, just in the mind
what is a war, does a war need bombs, guns and soldiers?
wars occur everywhere, daily, within 86, 400.002 seconds

the length of a day is measured in numbers; they are just inventions
numbers are man-made, animals orient on the sun and the moon
humans celebrate planets and write poems about them
we all will surive as long as we keep writing and tolerate each other

Poem- To the past & present

Hanging from the shame
Of my privileged supremisist height
Choking on the knowledge
That until now
I didn't fight

Eyes silenced hard
From systemic white view
All lives don't matter
Until your lives matter too

A product of white history
I wish I could reverse
Where all mankind are equal
For real not just in verse

Anger and great shame
come banging on my soul
Prejudiced leden centuries
and inhumane forms of control

I promise from today
Your fight becomes my fight too
I pray you'll accept from my heart
This apology to you..........

-  I am sorry
I am sorry on behalf of my ancestors and the part of history that affects you.
I am sorry for any part I may have played through being only Non-racist instead of Anti-racist.
I am sorry that I didn't educate myself earlier.
I am sorry that it has taken yet another death, for me to stand up and fight.
I have always shot down racism with my words, but I have failed to completely understand it.
For these and more that I still have to learn, I am sorry.

Fuel me
With rich stories
While I execute dreams
Unrealized and extinguished
“Ignite!”

i wanted to visit my ancestors,
so i stepped up to the gate.
i was told “You must be
/this/ dark to be let into this space,
see, there aren’t many people
here we can match
up to your face,
and by the look of your skin
we couldn’t be certain
you’ve ever felt the sun’s grace,
we’ve seen many colours
but you are another,
do you really belong in this place?”

i wanted to visit my ancestors,
so i stepped up to the door.
i was told “You must be
/this/ light to walk onto our shores,
see, we saw your curls and thought
Black Pete had come up
from the moors,
and you're familiar,
but that foreign tongue’s
taken several points off your score,
we were only one colour,
can’t cope with any others,
so what are you coming to us for?”

i wanted to visit my ancestors
but i wasn’t sure where to go.
they’d shut me out, left me in doubt,
and i was in limbo.
i thought i’d had a birthright,
some kind of claim to make,
i didn’t think that i would be
so easy to forsake.
i hadn’t convinced the ghosts,
and there was nothing left for me,
so i packed my things, tore my branch down,
and went to sow my own tree.