I would not go so gently
None at all would hear my
Stifled silence alone I
Submersive waves to flood my
Choke me to the dark
Quiet carries way my
Loneliness in death be
A silenced voice
A mind unwound
A yellow woman approached me
Slanted were her eyes
And asked why she had never seen a black woman cry.
I could answer not her question
And was taken quite aback
Does not every woman cry no matter yellow white or black?
We absolutely do cry.
What else consoles our pain?
We pray for our oppressors and then we cry to calm our shame.
A black woman’s tears are sacred.
They cleanse her as she weeps
But sorrow sends to soil her soul and steadily it creeps.
She cries when she’s with wisdom
There’s none left to do but cry
Her lament surrendered honest, it needs not an alibi.
After pondering the ponder
I believe I’ve found reply
I know why it is you’ve never seen a black woman cry.
Seldom are her whispers heard
Far too often she’s invisible
The world around her seems to think that she’s somehow invincible.
She runs nowhere when she’s wounded
Pain enough to want to die
Silently she suffers as she finds the will to try.
Perhaps you’ve never noticed
Truly coming eye to eye
Maybe that is why you’ve never seen a black woman cry
She cries because she knows
People think she doesn’t cry
And she doesn’t need
~Rachelle M. Turple