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Bint il Nil : EVERY LITTLE BIT HURTS
"EVERY LITTLE BIT HURTS"
In broad daylight
I am expected to see nothing.
I am a girl; low and dark
as the crease of shadow from
which I swam.
I have no hair like
the Arab woman (whose hair
is like silk and smells
like snot)--and when the
White woman comes to my face
(ME/the Black man's mother)--I think
of the penis.
The men want us to hate one
another. It makes them
feel safe...to have the
White (day) and the
Black (night) denying the
flowsongs of blood--THE RIVER
every little bit
hurts, God.
In Africa--we have no
cold oceans/We accept
that you made us
from fire
We sing to the lioness
and pray for when
the hate will go away--in
broad daylight
(from where it came)
O GOD, darkest father!
We are Black Men's daughters;
wet, tired and hungry.
At our heels the demon snaps
mightily no matter
what beam of wind we direct; what
beam of Sun we deflect
For out of bare breasts
our hearts are LEAPING
of warm oceans: the brown eyes
of our daughters
staring into the stretchmark of
a blue body's sorrow.
We kiss it up to God. Because
every little bit hurts.
