Maybe He's...

Moments with him are

new lumps of

country-red-cakalak-creek-clay.

I dip them in water,

roll them with love

in palms of open yearning,

let them linger on my skin,

fold them into vessels worthy

of containing the liquid mix

of our searching souls.

May they never dry

or crack or burn

or be painted or polished.

These earth-cups  are

the raw substance

that sustains my dreams.

© Kali Ferguson 2008

Rebirth February 2008 

Sometimes I forget

I am a big black woman/

little colored girl

from North Carolina.

Rarely, occasionally,

now and then

when I am alone,

my thoughts become
completely my own.

They don't "represent" my lot

or the political implications

stamped on my head

for just thinking, for envisioning

a world not hostile

to creatures of my complexion.

An existence embracing

brave soul rebels

who dare defy limitations.

Now and then I am

every and anything I feel.

In those moments,

I feel profoundly appropriate;

Unquestionably necessary;

Irrepressibly beautiful;

Immune to comparison

or judgment.

It is a resting place,

a holiday journey

outside the walls

crafted to hold me.

I am Kali,

Lover of trees,

Maker of miracles,

Groomer of life,

Mother of death,

Giver of all

things inevitable,

unseen,

unexplained.

I am Energy,

at rest in a

spectral peace

risen above

my own desperate demands.

In and of it all.

I am real.

No questions asked.

My songs spill

through space,

tear holes in

useless defenses.

My moon shines

Through steel walls.

My breath warms glaciers.

My hands heal plagues.

When this solace

cloaks my spirit

and dissolves

my false categories,

I dream the

wildest scenarios.

There, I fling aside

all armor -

loosen up to love.

I share my pillow lips,

shower my sweetheart

making magic live

As one

in two souls.

I frolic in ecstasy

at every breath

in each task

with every friend

and stranger.

When I am nameless,

without label,

my life is infinitely

possible.

Strong, wild, sparkling

work drives my days.

Gifts of laughter

caress my nights.

Image and touch

create constant sanctuary.

An earth-red refuge.

All that exists

at this sacred hearth

is truth, humility,

power, clarity,

and my soul's naked grace.

Just experimenting one night... some I like, all are real.

Reunion haiku

memorial meal
glues our diverse lives into
one family path

Invocation haiku

want some tangible
words to mold the pliable
clay of poet's mind

Equality haiku

bring better ways to
deem each gem bright and worthy
all hues are priceless

Music haiku

rhythm keys behind
my soul's voice inside warm sounds
is velvet on skin

Wishful haiku

cross-legged poses
conjure up longed-for lover
into reality

Intimacy haiku

may we begin the
pulling of layers away
from protected hearts?

Yearning haiku

I feel exactly
the same as any other
day of loneliness

Creative Power haiku

when T.V.  ain't IT
and noone else entertains,
co-creation rules!

Re-invention haiku

touch rainstorms with teeth
to learn "impossible" ways
of living lively

We

On the day I met you, I became we.

I came home that day, and home was a river:

A river that runs still and reminds the sky of His splendor.

We are that river and we are those who ask to know our own glory.

Like a candle in a mirror, we are light and air

Reflecting, embracing ourselves in love.

We are the soil that grounds each other's seeds.

We are the water that nourishes the saplings

As they reach for heaven's arms.

We are the harvesters of our own bounty;

we share our fruits and laugh

With the sweetness and joy of

Everlasting possibility.

And God stretches Herself across our creations

Our poems, our songs, our landscapes, our stories….

She wraps them around us as we drift and dream up

New homes, new families, new tomorrows.

As we remember our wholeness again.

--- Kali Ferguson 06/06

 written for the AACC 2006 Rountable

So I did this one after a much-needed night at a house spot in DC w/Kia (fresh in from the UK via NYC)and right before tearing up Carlton's weekly party with my Roundtable Crew. Who knew our quiet comrade Ulysses was a nonstop body-rocker?! Read me when I write that you just never know, you know? Anyways check out the poem. I am all dance these days, it seems. Maybe in the next life....

Dance Is

The dance of life, the dance of the ages

The dance that manifests itself

Adds a whirl, a stomp, a pulse

A pause embracing all of humanity

Each step we take, each sigh of air, each smile, each shout, each tear

Is Dance.

Is freedom, balm for the bondage of survival

Is wisdom, calm in the frenzy of revival

Resurrection of my soul

Pulsing heat in burning feet

Aching to move toward freedom

A need to experience the release that

Is Dance.

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Dance Is

The dance of life, the dance of the ages

The dance that manifests itself

Adds a whirl, a stomp, a pulse

A pause embracing all of humanity

Each step we take, each sigh of air, each smile, each shout, each tear

Is Dance.

Is a sensual dawn, awakening the pinks and oranges inside my psyche

Expressing my body's fantasies in rhythms and harmonies

Now tall, now bent, now twisting inside myself –

Surrendered to the music, controlled by the melody

Energy converts to the epiphany

That DANCE IS all there IS

My dreams, my fears, my hates, my secrets dance around

in my head until I dance through them to the other side –

The dance of peace, self-love, acceptance and truth

Rest - Until it's time to dance again

Dance Is

The dance of life, the dance of the ages

The dance that manifests itself

Adds a whirl, a stomp, a pulse

A pause embracing all of humanity

Each step we take, each sigh of air, each smile, each shout, each tear

Is Dance.

Is Dance.

Is Dance.