Random Notes on A Chilly Day

The fact that it is chilly outside is important somehow, seeing that I am sitting on my back ‘porch’ almost barefoot. But I needed some peace to write in, and it seems that here in the back I can see what I’m trying to say.

It’s getting warmer (over the past few days that is) and so more and more people are coming out. And as I walk through the crowds of tired, aching, drunk, drugged, healthy, pregnant, young & old folks, to get to my bus home, I can almost FEEL the/a self destructive force trying to suck my spirit away. I get so tired and so sad and so hopeless seeing people tear themselves down. But I had to just sigh, and remind myself: These ARE my people.

I walk from the bus stop to my house, pausing to admire the majesty and beauty that is the wooded field behind my house, looking like a little slice of heaven in the ‘hood’. My spirit lifts, and I am reminded of why I chose to live here. And I continue walking home, I watch the brothers teaching the smaller brothers how to play golf, and I have to sigh and say THESE are my people.

I get my mail, and as I do so I greet the gold toothed matron who rules the ‘stoop’ in front of my apartment with an iron hand. And I step around a wrestling/tussling match that ends with beer spilled all over the remarkably large baby in the stroller. As I lock my door behind me, I hear cussing and accusations going on as to who started it and how and why and ‘I don’t give a fuck why, y’all jes need to watch out for mah baby’ and I shake my head and remind myself that these are MY people.

I straighten up the living room and chat with some friends and eat something unhealthy as I try to pass the time until my sorors and our aspirant get here. I sit and read some Pearl Clege and wonder what happened to all the strong/beautiful/revolutionary men & women that she talks about and I realize that we have changed and converted into something different. We are confused about what there is left to fight against. We (my generation) are battling mists instead of the rock walls that her generation had to deal with. As I am trying to read my pearl, I hear a woman outside cussing and screaming about how she is gonna kill some man who did her wrong. Telling the baby to start crying for his daddy, because when the sun comes back up he is gonna be dead and she was gonna be in jail, but she didn’t care because he did her wrong. And everyone outside watched her in silence, letting her testify out her anger and rage and hopeless and weakness, but I’m disturbed because I can’t relate what I’m seeing with what Pearl is telling me. And I wonder why she has to be so loud so long, and then I sigh and remember, these are my PEOPLE.

So that’s why I’m sitting outside almost barefoot on a chilly day. I couldn’t hear what Pearl was trying to tell me anymore, and I wanted to write about what I had heard and seen all day, and the different sides of my people that I see. And so as I sit and watch the sun go down and wait for my sorors to come striding across the field, bringing a new woman into our fold, I smile and ponder the wondrous variety of beings that are my people. And I hope, that even with the challenges that we face... we wil lbe able to

Stay Jazzed.