Ash Mountains for Colored Girls

In the morning we rise

Bare feet upon cold floors. Eyes foggy with uncertainty. Weight of our bodies crushing upon the Earth as we rise. First breath upon first light as we outstretch our arms and tips of finger caress the sun.

Fire, Burn, Fire, Burn as we rise.

Rips of lightning red flares replace our veins and boil black blood…Fire, Burn, Fire, Burn.

Perfumed stench of embedded lies and self hate encapsulate our flared nostrils as smoke ascends and steam escapes the pores of our flesh as we rise. Quakes of wrath break backs and splinter bone to release poisoned marrow burdened with fear, shame, and promise of death that kept us shrouded and under the knife of horror that dripped with blood spells of field and house. Fire, Burn, Fire, Burn as we rise.

Our feet become wrapped in flame and scorch the Earth with memory of shackled voyage and roads littered with the lives of our gods and goddesses as we rise.

Fire, Burn, Fire, Burn

Our screams as black turns to gray create a melody of insanity laced with the laughter of our sons and daughters as we lay one another to rest under the stars of oppression and dreams unrealized. Fire, Burn, Fire, Catch as our Crown ignites with the power of 1000 Sun’s and eyes burn and burrow deep into the dark place where joy goes to die when confronted with nightmares of towered prisons echoing generations of sorrow. Flame dances a jig of jubilee as it eats away at the walls of our homes and nourishes its hunger on closets of empty possessions and secrets housed in jeweled boxes so not to be suspected of its true nature.

We are surrounded by the baptism with no exit in sight so we place our bodies upon the burning floor, lift our charred necks to the Sun and beg for mercy and receive none as we are engulfed in the furnace and disappear. Quieting embers surround us as our spirits survey the mountain of Ash, trying to make sense of the ruin and wondering if we angered the sun by daring to reach into its majestic space. Whispers upon the wind surround us as we curiously extend tip of finger toward Ash mountains. Residue of diamond dust coats our hand and radiates as the Sun peaks from behind curtains of leaves as if in fear of our wrath. We turn toward our flamed king with outstretched arm and the wind obeys a booming command from Sun and thrust us into Ash mountains.

We reshape as diamond ash peacefully lays within our Crown, eyes lock into carats, backs heal with glittering ice, feet encase with solid crystal rock, and silver river flow in our veins. Sun rises high above us and we illuminate with burst of glory upon the universe. Sun looks upon us and we laugh as one and dance a jig and thank Sun for the Fire and gift of Ash mountains

As we rise.

Written by Deborah Harris