With “Quilting the Black-Eyed Pea” in hand
I impatiently wait in line to get a signature that I couldn’t really care less about
For what’s much more valuable to me are the words contained within
And REALLY what I long to do is sit on a bench in Cal Johnson Park in the springtime just kickin’ it with Ms. Nikki
Nevertheless, I approach the table feeling excited, yet just as inhibited and rushed as
I feel when I visit a loved one in prison
She greets me with that warm and beautiful smile Once again, I’m inspired
You see,
I see her smile as a weapon
And I admire how she uses it, along with a force of humor and wit to combat the insanities of this world
I mean, how brilliant is it to be able to protest insanities like Poverty, War, what happened to Emmett Till, Martin and Malcolm, C. Delores Tucker, Unpaid
Reparations, 9/11, Politricks, sending a 19-year-old to the electric chair, Cancer,
Envy, Inequality, Racism and on and on and on…
And still make her point in her comical way that lets you know that it CAN be alright
Just moments before, I am moved as her eyes fill with tears as she speaks about
loving our Black men and what they were honorably trying to do on October 16, 1995
“Why is it that every time somebody (especially our Black men) tries to do something beautiful, we want to laugh at him?”, says Nikki tearfully
But no one seems to care when a mother cries anymore
“Don’t be breakin’ down in front of folks, lettin’ ‘em think ya weak or done lost your mind.”
So, women like Nikki and I are expected to keep our nature in check and take it
like a man
So, it’s a sign of strength to be hard and emotionless?
I can hear Nikki sarcastically proclaim, “No, that’s what got us in this mess in the
first place!”
Mothers are emotional, compassionate, love unconditionally, and weep easily for
their children here on earth and would do just the same for a green, bug-eyed, big-headed child from Mars
This occurs instinctively
Not by accident nor chance
But definitely for a reason
So, my eyes well up with tears right along with Nikki
As I sit in this auditorium amongst a diverse bunch of folks here to listen, learn and
be inspired – I secretly long for her to incite a RIOT OF TEARS
Maybe first starting with a whimper from someone in the crowd (maybe me)
A sniffle here, then from over there
The older gent in the front row seemingly clears a sudden something in his throat
The two women begin to weep onto one another’s shoulders
Then all out crying – some wailing wouldn’t hurt
Then maybe, we’d march outside and take it to the streets
First crying our pain to the gentleman in the suit innocently sitting in his car at the stoplight minding his own business
He’d be hesitant to roll down his car window at first But eventually the tears would well up in his eyes ‘cause he’d know that
IT WAS TIME
Then like an uncontrollable flood, these weeping people (still led by Nikki) would seep into homes, businesses, shops, meetings, concert halls, art galleries, shelters, up to the top floors of corporate, cross the borders, into airports, throughout nations
Bringing the already weeping homeless persons
Bringing lost girls and boys
Bringing drug dealers and their addicts
Bringing the police and their prisoners
Bringing the wealthy and the poor
Bringing whites, blacks, Latinos, Asians, mulattos,
and even Weeping Owl still dying on the reservation
We’d flood the White House with snot and tears, forever ruining all those beautiful antiques and ‘things’ that have been
cared for and preserved far better than our own every day, human lives
You’d turn on the televisions and radio stations and all you’d see and hear would be crying, sobbing personalities repeating over and over,
“It’s time”
(sniff, sniff)
“It’s time”
Then the time would come, and the world’s attention would be on Ms. Nikki
(who else?) preparing to address the world befittingly on the steps of the U.S. Capitol
in DC
There’d be a minor delay as they found a shorter podium mic to accommodate her
(she’s not as tall as she thinks she is (wink))
She’d pause for a moment as the crowd settled down and people passed the Kleenex Their sobs quieted to whimpers then an occasional, uncontrollable sniffle or two
She’d then wipe the last tear from her cheek, smile and say,
“NOW DON’T YOU FEEL BETTER?”
From the book Wildflower: Poems, Prose & Stories by Monalisa
Copyright © 2022 by Flip The Script Publishing LLC
Email: monalisa1513@yahoo.com