Movin' On
Short curly haired, dimpled face little girl.
Born in a place known as ghetto world.
She can see it plain as day through those big brown eyes.
She's gotta grow up quick, she's gotta grow up wise.
If she wants to live long, she better keep movin' on.
Dead Sister, family violence.
Dead Daddy, race riots.
Mama strugglin', Mama cryin'.
Mama dealin' with all this dyin'.
Burnin' buildings, no fire trucks.
Can't get out because we're stuck.
Lootin' and killin', cops don't care.
Mama lookin' for Daddy and he ain't even there.
Glenville riots 1968.
Chose for me an early fate.
Bang, Bang, Bang, Shots, Shots, Shots.
Daddy's next bed, a flip top box.
Peanut brown, growin' up nicely dressed.
With Grandma's breast.
She has brains.
Her heart in pain.
No friends, they're green.
Most of them with a poison unseen.
Found a friend or so I thought.
In my mind was being taught.
We takin' a trip.
Mama havin' a fit.
It's a pain endeavored.
A secret buried forever.
Wet high, dry high, which would it be?
Who knew these two would fight as to who would murder me.
Mama cryin' because I'm dyin'.
I have no clue because I'm flyin'.
My wings are clipped and I'm fallin' screamin' "God help me please".
Busted face, broken heart, my spirit has a disease.
If she wants to live long.
She better keep movin' on.
Been to hell, but now she's back.
And it ain't experience that she lacks.
Got the love of her Supreme.
Now she's fightin' for her dream.
To have her voice in black and white for the world to recognize.
With the bumps and bruises of life to open her eyes.
A million stories to be told.
A million mysteries to unfold.
Survivin', Black, Female, wanting to live long.
I gotta go, I gotta leave, I gotta keep movin' on.
Written By: Sonya "TheRealityPoet" Kyle
Copyright 1996
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment