My Soul Says Yes
King Tut starved himself when
I told him he was too old to
suckle my regal breasts
and the sphinx remained
riddled with silence when he
couldn't figure out how
locks pinned beneath
gemmed tiaras don't
define me as a queen.
See, the jewel cup between my thighs
has been pouring silk threads for centuries
decorating my remarkable divinity.
The enigma of my power left
ancient gods breathless
rendering them frozen in worthless statues.
Millennia can't count
how many mortals
have kissed the ground I walk on
just to taste a grain of diluted heaven.
I stay adorned with pride and inspiration
draped in scriptures and
baptized with the words of
Nikki Giovanni and Alice Walker.
While history books thought they could pacify me with
paragraphs on Martin, Malcolm and Nelson,
my mother and I used the Earth's axis to excavate core
minerals and write the life stories of
Coretta, Betty and Winnie.
Glancing at the star maps tattooed on my collarbone,
I took Zeus off my mountainous shoulders,
and let him rest in the grand canyon of
my cleavage until he fell asleep,
passed the time by making
thunderbolt rattles out of Nefertiti's bones,
used my wisdom teeth fillings to
paint stars in the Delta Quadrant,
and my unedited poetry became gospel.
I was sculpted from the Navajo's blessing
to walk in beauty and here
I stand at the crossroads
of those who walked before
and now with me.
I remember when Harriet Tubman used to wade in the Nile
and Angela Davis' fro was just a nap of Sojourner's truth.
Each woman is my stepping stone
but together, they make up the mosaic
lining my Atlantic ocean pool,
weathering monsoon tidal waves
in a testimony to women's strength.
My flawless skin baked brown by
a cowering sun
requires no masking foundation, makeup or diluted perfume
cuz I've got Ida B Wells speeches hanging onto my ears.
Orion's stars illuminating my hips,
and Saturn's rings around my toes.
Intoxicated by my ability to fill
black holes with misbegotten history,
I fed King Tut and told the Sphinx
He could now share my story.
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