Blooming

Becoming

Blooming

Unwillingly 

Into this woman’s body 

We are a flower plucked

And pulled by society

Depicted as the wholesome lilly

And sometimes as the tainted red rose

Blooming

We women bloom

But circumstance 

dictates how many petals we can keep

And which shade we can show

Society has plucked us 

And placed us on tabloids

Because they say sex sells

But the male gaze

Creates a distorted representation

See, we are viewed 

Objectified 

And shamed for being red

Like a tulip that blooms at night 

We can’t dare to desire the blush red

That comes with intimacy 

Instead only the white linens

Cloaked in white daffodils

Soft and tender

See as women our journey is to bloom

To be fertile yet holy 

To be sensual but not seductive

To smile but not speak

Is that truly what it means to bloom?

Society waters our roots 

Changing our direction

Filled with pretty and ugly depictions

And we are cast aside like witches 

For our mysteries

That prick the fingers

Of those who try control the way we blossom

Women

We are always

In phases of blossoming 

But are we allowed 

To pick the shade and the flower

That we want to be 

Or is that not our choice?

Star Gazing

From slavery to the First Lady

How tables have turned

How the basement became the attic

But still the attic is hidden and cluttered

With pain and the history of black and brown bodies

The roof of the house seems to reach infinity

And the ladder in the attic hovers below

Still too many brown backs are bent

To push ladder higher to the roof

When will the ladder be able to stand on its own?

Will the roof be able to hold multiple women of color

Who rise to be the First Lady

The first lady of herself

Putting herself first and allowing herself to take space 

In a place where she used to be boxed

Into the labels of the basement. 

I want to see these women on the roof 

Dance

Shaking their brown bodies to the illuminated moon

I want to see the sun that glistens in sepia

Weeping tears of joy onto that roof