Seattle, WA
Poet, blogger, lawyer, educator, sista, sister, aunt, daughter, mentor, friend, dog owner, lover of music and all things gluten free... Writing about all of this and more.

Sunday, September 20, 2009

Seeds

So... I have always had a passion for working with youth. I love the kids! All ages, but especially teenagers, adults in training trying to figure it all out, learning to accept who they are, who they are becoming, and learning to question who they are told to be. But along with that love comes soooo much frustration: frustration with seeing their immense potential and wanting them to see it too, to stop fighting against it, to let go of the fear, or wanting them to stop taking it for granted. Sometimes it's frustration with knowing that for some kids this will never happen. Sometimes it's frustration with seeing kids who've been burned for so long that when positive people come into their lives they push them away. Okay, I'm getting all worked up just thinking about it... Deep breath and sigh. Mmm. Well, I wrote a poem about it. Wanna hear it? Here it goes:

Seeds
Our seeds choke off weed smoke,
speed, coke, we bleed broke
greed smote us
we don’t know who we are so we just blow dust into our own eyes
and disguise our insecurities behind puffed chests
and what’s left of ourselves we quietly lay to rest
burying our potential in a legacy of neglect
cloaking over what we know about the strength we possess
we turn to distorted images and pretend to respect
what they want us to believe we’ve become:
kings turned pimps, thugs, victims and chimps
who catch a glimpse of our purpose and run the other way
but as they say, monkey see- monkey do
as for me, i can do much more than what i see
can you see, black?
do you know?
what you can do, who you can be if you would just see past all this?
but ignorance is bliss
so just piss on my parade and tell me it's rain
and tell me not to complain that my seeds need water
our seeds need water
and their reign is our slaughter
and our daughters find their only solace in our sons’ wicked remarks
and our sons find no solace beyond the spliff that they spark
and the sh*t that they bark out to each other
standing in gutters in the darkness cuz don’t nobody want to
acknowledge the work we got to undo
the truth we need to come to together
it looks like cloudy weather
and from low down dirt
our seeds can’t see their worth
so instead they soak in these lies
no dreaming of fly blue skies
no my seeds, our seeds find a high
in that weed smoke
and our seeds choke
and we still bleed broke


Copyright Kia Franklin, 2002

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