Rebirth (not exactly a poem)

Have you ever wondered what would happen
if Christians really were reborn?

Would they come forth in a spiritual plasma,
followed by a glowing afterbirth?

Would they cry and turn red, or bring
a deathly silence until spanked by the hand of God?

Who would cut the ambilical cord?
Should it be cut?

Would they be ready to suckle right away,
or wait a few hours, not knowing what they're missing?

Would the labor be painful and long?
Would she heave and cramp?
Would she doubt the joy to come?
Who said birth was beautiful?

Would she scream and wish it away?

I think
yes.

A History of Domestic Violence

When children became "rugrats"

When every man in the office
wore a "wife beater"
under his crisp, white shirt

When the fellow in that movie
last night said
"mother fucker"

When you called my brother a "nigger"
and my sister a "bitch"

Language at 19 Months

After one of our seminar sessions on Bonaventure and Aquinas, two medieval philosophers/theologians, my fellow students and I were discussing the continuim of existance and the concept of existential fading. Perhaps we are more real at some moments and less so in others. There were several in our conversation who joked that existance was gained through the passage of time, a chronological acquisition of being. But I wonder, perhaps we are more real earlier in life, and become less so (not in all senses of the word) as we grow old and are jaded, hurt, socially constructed into gender, racial, and socio-economic roles.

These thoughts have been swimming around for quite some time now, and this summer, after the death of a young child in my community, "Language at 19 Months" was born. It has remained in a rough state.

Language at 19 Months
for Corbin and Karith


things are very simple here
yes means yes and no is flexible
we know this

pain hurts we do not want that
but when it comes we cry
i curl up somewhere and wait

you see laughter is sure to follow
we laugh because we’re happy
sometimes it’s hard to laugh alone

the sun is bright here
it burns my eyes and nose
a girl gives me her hat

she’ll be my friend forever
forever is longer than we’ll live
she’ll be my friend forever

there’s glitter here too
the darkness even sparkles

colors are colored a thousand times thick
someone smiled at me
her skin must have been layers and layers

and oh how i wanted to match
so i hugged her face with my hands
she left glitter on my fingers

a woman closes her eyes and talks to the sky
says she wants to see its face
i do