This N*gga

I am the mother of two black boys. I am the mother that watches the news and clutches her stomach and prays and prays and prays to a god she no longer believes in. I am the mother who tirelessly strides to love them, protect them and push them as I see my great grandmother's vision in their eyes. When it comes to my babies, there is so much I could say. But I'm sorry y'all...I just can't today.

There is a distraction. And I don't mean whatever bullshit internet fad that's displayed to distract us as a people. Oh no. It's me. I am distracted. I am distracted by this god damn beautiful nigga. This man has me so wide open, y'all, I might need someone to come up here and catch me if I fall.

I am the woman who sits at the spoken word and endures the misogynistic bullshit wrapped with a poetic bow, nicely packaged bullshit that grown women actually clap for. I could talk about the black men telling me I'm a slut or a queen with no in between. There's no right to be ordinary within the black sanctuary. Thank you black man for instructing me to stay in my lane and so thoroughly defining precisely what that lane is. Talking about the hos with the fake fat asses putting us in the very boxes you criticize us for not liberating ourselves from. Go ahead. Judge the fuck out of her while you fucked the shit out of her just the other night...and the night before. The crowd claps as I make that face and think, "Man, fuck this nigga".

I am the woman who doesn't use the N word. Whether it's an "er" or an "a" I'm just not down with that shit. Nigga, if you knew where that shit came from, which I'm sure you do, you would think twice before you decapitated that ER and replaced it with that A to make it suddenly okay.

So many topics to touch, burdens to lay down, gripes to go around but none of them come to mind because all I can think about, all I can spit about is this goddamn nigga.

He sees me.

He sees me beyond my hips and my thighs , beyond my full lips and pretty brown eyes.

The pain that I hide, the insecurities in my stride. No matter how much I suppress, to him I'm transparent and he offers me rest. 

He sees me and loves me and pushes me and catches me. 

He makes me forget about him and him and him and her because for me there is only him.

Forever there is only him. Him and I. 

The only problem with this nigga? I haven't met him yet.