
Week 4 “I come from a long line of.... “
Updated: May 9, 2020
Poems written by Untold Stories poets in response to the prompt “I come from a long line of “ echoing Lucille Clifton’s poem “for deLawd”.

~lineages of love~
-Teiana McGahey
I come from a long line of womxn
whose eyes hold the stories and wisdom of our people
whose hair holds the strength and softness of the land
whose tears release and heal
whose laughs bring joy to untouched spaces
whose voices bring comfort and ease
whose hands hold the gentleness and warmth of the sun
whose wombs carry the magic of the moon
whose veins carry the wonders of the world
whose freedom sets me freer
I come from a long line of womxn
who pray for us
who hold and carry us
who love us
who are alive in us
we come from the land
the lakes and rivers where the
sun hits just right
the mountains and hills where
soil is warm and strong
skies that hold sunsets and sunrises
clouds and stars that hold beauty and histories
deeper and richer than we can imagine
the lands
that birthed us
the lands that hold us
call me home
call me back to myself
Metzi Daughters
-Erika Murcia
Mamita was the first i met
she taught me gratitude
for the bond we shared with
Luna
her medicine our guidance
intuition's Light
Mama was the second
i learned from
so many times she felt
protected by Mama Luna
in the darkest moments of the war
i am third generation in this line
is my responsibility to past this knowledge on
my niece Maya is fourth
We are devoted humble daughters
We are Metzi daughters
Lines
-Julie Quiroz
my people are survivors
who never spoke
passed lifetimes
in shallow breath
barely asking for air
seven hundred islands
-nuola akinde
I come from a long line of aching
throats
stained glass words
shattered and swallowed
heartache that strips you bare
Mouth open wide
As the full-figured moon
These long fingers
They are from mare-riders
pill poppers birth-workers soil sifters joy seekers
women whose dreams were
too big
for their time
We tried to show them to the men we loved
And they kept them
In sweaty palms. Let them spill out through the creases of their tightly closed fists
we tucked our pain into our ovaries
gave a small dose to each little ovum
hoping to spread it out over generations
Collective amnesia
i come from a long line of
babies who nurse until your breasts bleed
and who cry
all
night
Great Goddesses
who will only be appeased by the humbling of a man
who cradles infant in warm brown hands
takes the hairy knuckles that might have shattered jaws
Or dreams, or dignity
and instead
caress
a baby's crooning lips
cooing along with Sun Ra
Another day I will tell the story of our resilience
another day, we will celebrate
the ways from no way
The light hearts on the scales of Ma’at
the chapped lips coated in honey by Osun
but tonight I will tell you that she died several times over
and planted one small suffering in the egg who became my mother
who planted one small suffering in the egg who became me
who planted one small suffering in the eggs who became my daughters
three
My mother taught me
There is an ache
For every island