Had we known the risk,

would we still

Lock our poisoned lips?

Sister, you look tired and sleepy.

Try taking a nap.

I will fight this fight for you.

I will carry the burden with you.

Sister, why is your face so sad?

Is it because your feet are too heavy?

Is it because your words are deadly?

Sister, you should sit down

And try to sleep.

Maybe in your dreams,

You can be free.

You love as if you were at a museum.

Carefully looking through the faces,

Walking silently through the spaces.

Always scared not to break anything.

Never sure if you’re what you’re supposed to be.

You make love as if your lover’s body

was a painting and you were a visitor.

Forbidden to stand too close.

Never allowed to touch.

Writer. Poet.

I am the messenger.

Don’t kill the messenger.

I’m only writing the words that come

I’m only speaking the truth that wants.

I am the messenger.

Don’t shoot the messenger.

I come to bring the messages,

I come to stop the massacres.

I’m only the channel

through which they come.

I’m only the floor

where they sing and dance.

I am only the messenger.

Even the greenest leaf commits suicide.

She falls as the wind comes,

Swinging from the sides.

She knows it’s better to have her feet on the ground

Than to live with her head on the sky.

Even the greenest leaf commits suicide.

Looking down at the sidewalk,

She’s sure she’s tired of following running clouds.

Instead, she prefers stones that sit still.

Even the greenest leaf commits suicide,

She’d rather die than kill.

Sunlight on your skin,

I can hear the cracks

it makes when it burns.

I wonder if that’s how

I sound like when you touch me.

You’re like a dark chalkboard

On the first day of school.

I want to write my name on it

with a  timeless chalk.

So that my words

will forever be with you.

Even after I’m gone.

Even when I leave.

You’ll read me.

Were I not a woman,

Would you ask me

what I was wearing?

What was I drinking?

Were I not a woman,

Would it matter

if I was alone or with a man?

Would it change a thing,

had I been a man?

Were I not a woman,

Was this not my ass,

Were these not my breasts,

Would you still see me as a potential mother?

Were I not a woman,

Would it still be my fault?

Would you not trust my voice?

Wet socks above my sole,

I know this water

will someday help a flower grow

But for now

it hurts.

it’s freezing my life in death row

 

I know this water

will someday help a boat move.

But for now

it’s painful.

it’s drowning my toes in misery

Depriving me from victory.

 

Wet socks above my sole

But I can still touch the ground.

I won’t let them get me down.

 

Don’t take me for a spark.

I’m a fireball running in slow motion

waiting for a fast wind.

If you cross my way,

I’ll burn you.

I will take down

these paper trees you built

in front of me.

Destroy the world

you believe in.

Test me.

Try me.

 

I can erupt like a volcano,

hibernating with its face

looking down.

Spitting fire from my pores,

My skin will turn into

a black coal.

I will write History 

wherever I go.