Poem: She Who Names the Flames

I plan on adding this poem to MTM, but here it is for now:

All your mudslinging and the spoofing messages
pretending to be me,
simply because you always wanted to be
me.
Steady stayed competing but there was no need.
See,
the me that truly was me
fled.
And it was the shell of me that led
a life fully consumed with you.
All the while I watch and feel the damage you do
so well.
Silently, masterfully stoking the fires of hell
for Black women to walk through and their souls to dwell.
Minds racing, spinning.
Reputations shattered.
Spirits worn, beaten and battered.

I was not the first Sister Warrior you surrounded with flames.
I am the only one that gathered the fires and all the smoke
and repurposed their pain.
Gone are the days of the Deceiver’s shame.


I am the only one that stood 10 toes down
With the fires raging ‘round
with the gnashing of teeth and the clawing at my flesh.
I came back stronger.
Wiser.
A true to life Bad Bitch.
Stepping all up into my best.
Your expectation was for me to acquiesce like the rest?
I guess?
What you couldn’t comprehend was the fact that those very same flames
were the very exact same
ones my Ancestors taught me to tame.

They said:
“Listen. Gather them all in your arms and give each one a name.
No need to play the Enemy’s games.
Just because it’s said, doesn’t make it true.
Understand the Enemy never stops plotting,
because he knows
he can never
stop
you.”

Gone ‘head
Do what you do.
But be advised
the fires you create for others
who were once your lovers
will one day consume you, too.