A Ring in Pocket Posies
Charles Claudel Garrett I
Our Pockets are Full
Our elderly, grans-grans and nanas
The up-and-coming swing of-it-all
How, “we all fall down.”
Scars screamed-striped-initials on my skin
The way life leaves blessings on my skin.
Wrapped in protective bandage
Inside and underneath, it burns
The way a caged dog burns.
My Palms can’t Believe its Winter
I have sustained injuries from tearing down
Burning crosses in Louisiana streets,
And low-crawled over dirty rice spurred over bone
and spackled across graveyards.
Bereave me, but I am the sinner.
Where Our History Prays
Deprived without really knowing
I take the dead in my heart
And clean blisters and loose skin
From burns not self inflicted
(How else could I face history)
Now as the blisters have scarred over
And the pain replaced with numbness
My son prepares for his journey
His fresh skin draped over eyes of innocence
And wonder. With all of this
I ask, that the air speak for me.
To say what all has plagued here
So that I can sleep soundly
‘til the world no longer remembers.
Charles Claudel Garrett I: “I am a community activist and founder of an organization that has tasked itself with the responsibility of empowering and emboldening communities. I am finishing my debut collection of poetry and I am an aspiring novelist. I am a published poet and run an indie online poetry journal, that has given voice to poets from all over the world. From civil war torn neighborhoods of Burma-Myanmar conflict to the frozen streets of the Canadian border.”