#poetry, blog, Bodyheartsoulmusings, Bodymusings, DailyFix, poemoftheday, musings,, Learningtolove, On my mind, On my mind, selfreflection, selfawareness

Loving This Body

I’m learning to love this body on a different level this year, man. Honestly, it’s been such a journey. It’s the kind of body that’s been carrying me along for 28 years and has yet to stop. It might wear down sometimes but most of the time this body of mine keeps it together and does a damn good job of it.

This body puts on weight, loses it, puts it on again and is ridiculed for it. Sometimes even I hate it for that. But this year, this year I’m seeing these curves and loving them for what they are. Proof that I am still here. Solid and good and enough as I am…yes, I am still here.

There’s been close calls, you know? Often I don’t get to say this but there has been moments when my mind wanted to take a break and my body kept us standing. Reminded us that we feel pain but we can bear it and for when we couldn’t, this body told us where our threshold was so we knew to stop. Take a break and recover.

Yes, this body is good. It does well for me and I’ve grown to love it.

I walked through the streets of my city today, Melanin by Sauti Sol playing in my ears, hips swinging in time to the music as the scent of rain settled in around me. This body of mine is special and I’m going to live in it well. I’m going to love it.

soulbrotherv2: “ Beautiful things happen in the shadows of morning. Another masterpiece from Saddi Khali Photography. ”
©Saddi Khali photogrophy
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Keeping My Hands to Myself

All I think about is how much I want you to survive.

When you were fourteen, I told you:

You can be anything you want to be, just don’t be a statistic

I told you: “We live on the wrong side of town and I know, they know

Your name not because they want to but because they feel they have to”,

I told you can feel as angry as you like but

Never show it on the streets”

We live 62 miles from London, 78.5 miles from

Birmingham; but when the anger exploded

We made you a prisoner in your own home

Cause it doesn’t matter how far away it might be,

Every siren is an emergency in our house.

When you were nineteen,

You found the right things to say

So I wouldn’t be afraid.

Now, I take it for granted that all your words

Are to be read into –

I listen but look at the margins

to see what you’re omitting.

There are things I will not tell you.

Like what it feels like to stand in Templars

Square and have nothing to say when

The old lady you’ve just spent ten minutes

Talking to turns to the waiter and

Says, ‘this coloured girl’s looking for a job,’

No one knows what to say. So we say nothing.

You’re 21. I’m worried your hair is too long,

You’ve never shaved your beard and the way

Your coat hangs on you says things you shouldn’t

Want to say. I tell you, ‘You should cut your hair.

If you look all wrong, you can get in trouble’

Trouble can mean so many things.

April, 2015: ‘Two men have been charged in connection with an incident of

grievous bodily harm in South Park. They were charged today with one count of possessing

a blade in public and one count of wounding with intent…’

We go for dinner, and talk about how funny they both were.

We talk about what we know, the version of their story that will never make the papers

Because No one else will talk about what they could have been.

This we do for every name we recognise in the paper,

For the ones we don’t

for every knife and gun,

We gather and remember, drive and remember, eat and remember

every name, every story, the ones we’ve heard on the streets

the ones we know personally,

We’re the keepers of tales, we swap them

back and forth so that they rest between us;

We deliberately remember the good,

Because we must.

Because this isn’t London.

This isn’t Birmingham.

The only things visible here are the dreaming spires,

conversations at bus stops about the weather,

history soaking into the skin of our hands

so much so that we dare not touch

the stones lest they crumble;

there’s so much history to preserve here…

I’m 25. Now I only tell you, “Please, try and be home by ten.

Don’t get into trouble.”

*Listen to the poem in full!*

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ALL THESE WALLS OPPRESSION BUILDS WILL HAVE TO GO!

In a time of such heartbreak, we say their names: George Floyd. Ahmaud Arbery. Tony McDade. Regis Korchinski. Breonna Taylor. David McAtee. Justin Howell.

Cr Black lives matter.

Sometimes we can feel something like compassion fatigue. There is so much going on at once and so many things wrong. But even when we are so tired, we still must carry on using our voices, our words, our funds where possible and our hands in peaceful protest so that we can build the world we want to see.

One where justice is real, safety for our black bodies is assured and one in which we are not afraid to live.

This article in the cut details a list of places that you can donate to for George Floyd and the #blacklivesmatter movement.