as a youngin, sometimes deliberately… but more often just haphazardly falling into my self, poetry and writing saved my life as often as i needed her to. why haven’t i engaged in this self-care more often in my adult life? well that’s a whole ‘notha post… but this poem fought its way to the fore…so here it is.
buried treasure –by asha zenzi
our skin, my skin
‘diabolic dye’…Phillis wheatley penned
one minute weighs a metric ton
next minute, light as cotton spun
they see it locked, they see it loaded, looming & black,
gun blast exploded…humanity eroded…Tamir…Trayvon…Philando…Sandra…Bryonna
the loss? i’m enraged to behold it…
but damnit they might like your look!
(God help you)
big and black on stages and fashion books!
bought and bossed and…on the hook…should be shook…it would have me shook…
wet coat heavy or featherweight when with kin
from one moment to the next, this is the skin i’m in.
here i go!
life on tuesday 
Oh my, I can’t believe you still have your blog. This was such a pleasant surprise when I saw it in my email. (Former awritersvoyage.com.) Was quick to click on it to see what you are writing, and of course (I eat people who comment on my Oxford comma) now back to regular scheduling, I was pleasantly surprised. I’m a poet as well and this, I devoured ma’am. It’s gutting and potent, but so fluid I almost want to sing along like a song. The gravity of it wouldn’t be any less numbing, in fact I think I would cry if I were to sing it. Can I please share this?
hi sel!! i’m so happy to see you’re still in the saddle!! share away friend! i can’t wait to dive back into reading some of my old favs (if they’re still here in the blogisphere)…yours included!
Hi 👋🏾 😁Yes, still here. I’m only now seeing your reply. And thank you for allowing me to share. Are you on social media so I can tag you when posting the poem?