Metamorphose Child, Constant Look at me Tell me, What do you see?

Cinnamon rubbed on flesh Hair growing towards the sun The Lotus in my Soul?

Wrong. Look again. Look at my eyes. Blazing dark chocolate infinitely cool? Tawny in the sunlight, ebony at night? Wrong. Look again. They’re yellow green. This cinnamon is ebony and covered with course fur. My limbs dance with sinewy muscle. Power, Grace, Majesty. I am a panther. Wrong. Look again. My limbs meld into one. My skin shimmering scales. My eyes slits. My body dances with sinewy muscle. Power, Grace, Majesty. I am a cobra. Simultaneously, I am she: Mother of the Dark Moon, Guardian of the Temples, Displaced child of the MotherLand, Misplaced child of This Land. This poem is part ode to my spirit animals (Cobra and a Panther) part ode to my ancestry. I am everything all at once. It also bothers me that despite my Native American heritage I cannot apply for being a Native American because I have too much “outside” blood. It is wrong that I have too much African to be considered Indian.

and if I am not enough there are generations standing at his or her back steadying. This rhythm is not my own.Dance for My Future Child Rhythm of my flesh. He or she will carry everything that I am in his or her body. Never should you fear. pushing and never pulling. Cuz when you feel that rhythm. That’s the rhythm. Rhythm of my bone. and though chances and circumstances may alter it—it’s given to my child by all of us. Rhythm of my soul. The rhythm that’s born in me Is the rhythm that’s born in you. Rhythm of hers too. Know that we are near. Passed down by the first. Never alone. This poem was written to my resting heartbeat. Rhythm of my mother. Never are you alone. .

I wear Nefertiti on my back. because that is what I am.Me African American Queen Nigger Black Negro Colored Playing around with the circle that was prominent in Native American poetry that we read. . And the Queen is right next to AA. It didn’t really come out like I wanted to… but I wanted to show the regression/progression. How we’ve gone from AA to Black to Negro to Colored etc… until finally we were queens.

To accept all you will give. Willing. To be one with myself. My eyes as green as life. My hair as blue as unadulterated streams. My skin as rich as soil. I come With spirit wide open. Teach me. Ready. . Myself as in the Earth.Take me. The One from Whom All Life Flows. To run through the wildness.