For Colored Girls

"I asked myself, how I could let that happen. I realized, I was missing something; something promised, something so important; a laying on of hands. Fingers, near my forehead; strong. cool. moving. Making me whole, since. Pure. All of god, coming into me, laying me open to myself. I was missing something. something promised. something free. laying on a hands. I know about laying on bodies. Laying out a man. & bringing him all of my fleshy self & some of my pleasure being taken; full, eager, wet like I get sometimes….I was missing something. Laying on of hands. Not my mama, holding me tight, saying I’m always gon be her girl. Not a laying on a bosom in wound, the laying on of HANDS. The holiness of myself, released…
I sat up one night, walking my apartment floors, screaming. Crying. The ghost of another woman, who was missing what I was missing. I wanted to jump out of my bones, be done with myself. Leave me alone, go on in the wind. It was too much. I fell into a numbness, to the only tree I could see. Picked me up into her branches. held me in the breeze. made me dawn dew. That chill. Daybreak. The sun wrapped me up, swinging rose light everywhere. & the sky laid over me. Like a million men. I was cold; I was burning up. A child innocently…With my tears, I found god in myself. & I loved her FIERCELY!"

My love is too poetic, to have thrown back on my face.