I’m on an airplane.
Time is shifting.
I close my eyes and I see the face of a woman I cannot name.
Here I am.
In an unfamiliar room.
I open my eyes and I remember my granny
Addie Mae Brown.
Now I’m sitting.
My breath — is all I hear in this dark theatre.
Fear has found me.
Quietly snuck upon my mind
reminding me that Black Women are often forgotten.
combusting in time // with time.
As I walk through crowded streets history begins to speak.
My bones remember names I cannot say aloud
My voice is unable to conjure stories left untold.
So I shadowbox old thoughts as I try to speak the names of women unknown—
yet who look like me. And still go unseen.
What happens to a Black Woman when she goes without care?
piecing together new memories // carrying old memories
as I seek a sustainable life.