This sestina was written for this week’s Three Word Wednesday prompt: to use the words “narrow”, “history”, and “spent”. Enjoy.

-Nicole
————————————————–
History may record the firecracker chaos
born of steel wills clashing in these
Birmingham streets, the clashing of love
and hate, bigotry and tolerance, law
enforcers and law breakers. It may speak
of water hoses, dogs, nightsticks, angry

old men with fear-chiseled faces, and angry
women upholding banners of hatred; of chaos
created when men and women dare to speak
of a new future but are yet opposed by these
hoses, dogs, clubs, people, and unjust law;
and hands, shoulders, and wills joined in love,

forming bridges and walls. Yet of our love
history may not speak, but we still confront angry
words and stares outside, and ancient, dusty law
which all but forbids our love. I hold hot chaos
in my heart; it swirls and scalds, the result of these
wounds of wicked hatred. I don’t dare speak

lightly of our love, but I will dare to speak
to widen dark alleys within narrow minds. Love
compels me, love propels me, to speak these
truths, truths that bind me to you against angry
protest, even from my family. I’ll take the chaos,
I’ll take the pain, I’ll take the risk of offending law

and parents. I can only live by one law,
and that is the law of love; so I will speak
your name in public spaces and brace for chaos;
I will cling to you in daylight, and I will love
you. What else can I do? I’ve spent angry
currency in your defense, I’ve spent these

nights with you under moonlight, and these
daytimes by your side, watching as law
and people try to cut you down with angry
swords of words and denials. I now speak
of forever, of shoulders strengthened by love
as mountains to lean upon and weep, of chaos

spent like dollars when we made love. These
and other moments make me speak against
angry people, unjust law, and moral chaos.

Written 7/16/08
© 2008 Nicole Nicholson. All Rights Reserved.

Stumble It!

-Nicole
——————————————————-
Stung by the splendor of sudden black, I failed to
bid farewell to you. Nothingness erased the
last still frame where you stood and painted it
black. I called your name, but Silence devoured my
cries into its belly. An obsidian wall separated life
and death – and therefore, us.

Shocked by the brilliance of sudden light, I froze
in my own still frame. Light erased Nothingness
from my view with a sudden, tender violence. The air
sang out my name in sonic colors silent to earthly
ears. The wall was now a two-way mirror through
which I saw you, standing still.

Slapped by the shock of sudden death, I winced,
my soul smarting from the pain. Pain vibrated in
contrast to the rainbow song and unearthly light.
My unsaid farewell to you caught in my throat and
held the pain inside. I looked through the mirror
and saw you, weeping, demanding my return.

Chained by the weight of sudden regret, I screamed
your name into the air. The song and the light absorbed
the pain which poured out of my soul. The unsaid
farewell followed, floating through the mirror to
you below. I lingered upon your image one last time
before walking away.

Written 7/15/08
© 2008 Nicole Nicholson. All Rights Reserved.

Stumble It!

What do I say to you?
I write to all my heroes
As if they stand before me,
But what do I say to you,
The largest of them all?
I’ve barely begun to study your life;
I know a little of your teenage strife
And how one man’s violation
Almost stole your voice,
But I read you in your poetic lines,
I’ve always read you in your poetic lines.
I read a million autobiographies
Of rhythm, rhyme, meaning, and feeling,
Of exhortations to black men and especially women
To rise tall as redwoods to the sky
And bust through glass ceilings, shattering them
To millions of shards.
I became a bard
Because of you,
Maya Angelou.

Written 5/18/08
© 2008 Nicole Nicholson. All Rights Reserved.

Written 4/4/08
© 2008 Nicole Nicholson. All Rights Reserved.

Please tell me you went not silently
Into a not-so-gentle night, and that your
Giant voice of redwood
Wasn’t silenced after all.

One day you appeared, then just as quickly
Vanished, leaving us wondering if you were a
Ghost.
But too proud to be a ghost,
Your formidable presence took up space and left
Impressions in my mind.
You had the grace of a queen,
And the voice of a (Dr.) King.

Please tell me you rose, far above
The small-town walls and ignorance
And you weren’t swallowed up in the ghetto.
I thought that with your intellect,
You’d join Booker, DuBois, and Ms. Angelou -
In the great Black hall of fame
There’d be an entry from Middletown.

Please tell me you stayed a queen.
Please tell me you’re not unseen.
Please tell me you didn’t disappear
In hopeless anonymity.
We don’t need another Black female martyr,
My sister.

Written 7/14/2007
© 2007 Nicole Nicholson. All Rights Reserved.