The Eye of the Tornado
By Michelle J. Pinkard

You know me

You look me lost
confused and dazed
crazed and amazed
at the sight of me
they tried to divide with
selfish lies. Tried to make
you forget, but you
remember me.
You know me.

We drank from the bank
of Lake Tanganyika.
I was your Eve and
together we gave birth
to rhythm, soul, dance
culture and beauty.
We sung of nature
and life and love.
You know me.

I held your hand
in the belly of slave
ships. In your eyes
I saw strength. In mine
you saw hope.
With hope and strength
we would conquer
a new world.
You know me.

Our voices rose
from the dry earth of
cotton fields and reached
the heavens. And when
they lay the whip on
your back, it was me
you thought of. And when
they forced my legs wide,
it was your name I called.
You know me.

I took the Billy club
beside you. I braved the
water hose with you.
The heels of my feet
burned as I marched next
to you. My bloody
fist lifted to the sky
with yours.
You know me.

I share your frustration
I too want to scream
want to holler 'til all
the hurt vomits out of my
stomach onto marble floors.
Can't. Gasping for air
under this sealed tight
razor sharp glass ceiling
All the while seeing
where you want to go
Can't get there
Can't get there.

You know me
I am that face in the mirror
You know me
the completion to make life clearer
You know me
You know me
You….me.

==

The Poets

Beware earthlings, I say thee beware!
there are aliens among you
The Poets are a people from a new planet
an old planet
they have come to seduce you
they have come to consume you
Beware earthlings, I say thee beware!

The Poets have big eyes that
see in, out, around and through
they see poetry in sun and moon
in falling leaves and sun sprinkled streams
in joy and pain, in the refrain of
children's laughter. In war chatter
The Poets have big eyes

and ears that shoot up like
antenna and hone in with sonic
frequencies on truth hidden in lies.
on whimpering justice under hypocritical
rubble. on songs seeping from
ocean shores or wind whistles.
The Poets have big ears

and mouths that speak in
different codes to entrance their
prey (Their most cunning of
characteristics, by the way). Their
language a labyrinth of metaphors
and similes, hyperbole and alliteration.
of liberation. The Poets have big mouths.

They have weaknesses, The Poets.
they lie awake at night, dreaming.
their stomachs are screaming and hungry
wanting to be fed, to be fulfilled. their
thoughts are too wide for one head
their hearts are too heavy for one body
they must give of themselves to stay whole.

Beware earthlings, I say thee beware!
The Poets are among you. They want your young and old. They want your minds and souls The Poets are a people from a new planet
an old planet.
The pen, their gun, they will take control!
Beware earthlings, I say thee beware!