Read a Poem
Haint Blue
by Siaara Freeman
Red, White, and Black Make Blue – Andrea Feeser
Grams says a haint sat on her bed when she was a girl. When I was a girl, I got to visit her childhood home where she learnt how to be the third girl. A lesson she taught my mama who taught me. Some thangs just got to be learnt on a porch. I am the third girl of a third girl of a third girl of old blood in a new body. I am a Freeman. I am love & craft & country. I got some steady eyes in the back of my hope. Some spells just take centuries & so much blood to complete. I be a good book in bad hands. I am the sword & the stone it was pulled from. I am pinned to my own chest like a note from a teacher. Education is a woman who comes from porch people. Ancient like
darkness. Each strand of her hair is a new name for a god that you won’t even try to pronounce correctly. Her heart is on backwards. I am to go back and stop her from crossing the water. I am haunting myself for generations. I am haunting myself into myself into myself. The water is whatever you think it is. I am right after something borrowed. A gift that will not be returned easily.
Indigo child, my sister Angie called me indigo child when I was a child. I looked it up only once & it scared the prayers out of me. Just like in third grade when that lady with a smile filling the whole classroom sent me home with a packet. I read it before sharing it with my mom or my grandma. I couldn’t stop shivering. It said, Your child is terribly gifted, it did not say with what.
Haint Blue by Siaara Freeman from Urbanshee. Button Poetry. 2023. Used by permission of the author.
About the Author
Siaara Freeman, current Poet Laureate for Cleveland and University Heights, is a 2023 Room in the House Fellow with Karamu Theater, a 2022 Catapult Fellow with Cleveland Public Theater, and a four-time nominee for the Pushcart Prize. Her work appears in The Journal, Josephine Quarterly, Cleveland Magazine and elsewhere. Her first full-length book Urbanshee, available with Button Poetry, is a 2023 finalist for the Audre Lorde Lesbian Poetry Award. When not working, she is likely by a lake, thinking of Toni Morrison and talking to ghosts. She is growing her Afro so tall, God uses it as a microphone and speaks through her.
Write a Poem
Write a poem about something someone said about you that you’ll never forget.
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Tovil
So lucky to have a new memory of past losses. The beauty of the tale told with the perfect words.
Knockout poem, Siaara! Just wonderful.
Awesometruly.
The Words That Wouldn't Be Said
For now the words lay dormant
Ignored
I could tell you the words
Said to me
By my people
I adored
The blood of my blood
The words
I believed were
Undeniable
But the words
Were ugly
Perhaps generations
Old
Born into a world
Where only ugly words existed
I took them
All in
I defined myself with those words
Creating
A hemispheric shield
Surrounding me
Keeping all the good
Words out
Until led to the good words by
Friends
They showed me
I wasn't powerful enough
For all that
Blame
I try to minimize the
Damage
The words remain
Dormant
Unused and
Ignored
Someday they'll be forgotten
Day 17 Write a poem about something someone said about you that youll never forget.
https://tovlis.wixsite.com/tovliwriter/tovlis-writings
Last Visit
Ive forgotten them. Sort of.
My mother made coffee.
She remembered how I liked it.
This is for you. Just for you.
Howd you know to make this way?
Your father told me.
Still in bed, Dads eyes twinkled.
Their new bedroom was Hollywood in the forties:
kitchenette,
walk-in closet,
domed ceiling,
Bette Davis bathroom
sunken tub, shower on the side,
plush coral towels theyd never use.
They were happy. They smiled at each other.
Their bodies, wrapped in sleek percale,
were like clever ghosts dipping their toes into heaven.
I sat in Grandmas rocker,
fingers rubbing against tiny bite marks
her children had left behind, each one her favorite.
My parents laughed, their secrets gnawing the air.
Rebirth.
A key pinched between thumb and forefinger
unlocked belonging, suggesting
I might bury my teeth in an available arm,
leaving a trace of joy floating behind.
We exchanged odd, yet courteous recognition
and went our separate ways.
Before the door closed, I called out to them:
Please. Wait. Well enjoy coffee once again.
They laughed like a couple of little kids, turned a corner,
and never looked back
not even once.
Tovli 2024
Such a powerful poem! What a gift you have. Thank you for sharing it with us.
Powerful poem, Siaara.