"The Return of the Klan," A Poetry Post

The Klan has returned,
and I will tell my son,
that the people that dragged us
by the ankle,
the people that
hanged us from the tree,
the people that
beat us upon the brow,
the people that
emasculated our sons and
harassed our daughters and
burned our businesses and
bombed our churches are
trying to buy an election through
fear and
sound bytes and
video clips.

This is the same Klan,
son,
that you read about
in your middle school
history class.

And it will take
more than
raising a fist,
or standing in formation,
or rapping a few fancy bars
to face them down
this time.

-T. D. James-Moss

"Morning Rounds," A Poetry Post

Good morning, uh, Mr. ---.

Good morning.

So you're still having pain in that leg?

Yeah. It's a hot pain. I don't know.

Well I'd better order a scan.

What about the pain? Can I have something for the pain?

I'll see about that. Maybe that's the problem.

Yeah... it's a lot of pain. 

I mean the pills, Mr. ---. You may be addicted to the pills.

Say what?

I don't think there is a pain, I'm saying, but I'll run a scan and talk to the nurse.

...

The doctor says I'm addicted to oxycodone. 

He doesn't believe me.

He's treating me like

I came in with

tracks in my arms.

He's running a test.

...

So, it turns out your leg is broken.

It's broken? How is it broken?

Well, we're not sure exactly.

Is it necrotic?

I can't say yet. We'll have a deeper scan.

...

So, it's a fracture on the ---.

It's not broken?

No, it's just a fracture. Wear the immobilizer and complete rehab.

How long is the rehab?

I'll send in a consultant.

...

Hello Mr. ---. My name is ---.

We just need to complete this

questionnaire for

pre-approval with

your insurance company.

...

How long is it?

Seven days.

In a facility?

It's seven to ten days.

To do what now?

To heal the leg and practice walking on it.

Outpatient?

No. Inside for a week, direct from the hospital.

It's already been seven days.

The doctor is sending over PT. They want me to prove I can handle myself at home.

...

I'm coming home tomorrow.

You should.

We have always rehabbed at home.

I know. 

At home, I am treated better, I can rest, and I can heal. 
I need to be home.

I know. 


-T. D. James-Moss

"Pride," A Poetry Post

If you are proud
about your
beautiful breasts,
your perfect skin,
your perfect white teeth,
your perfect cheekbones,
then you should tell a brother
if the
perfect chocolate truffle
sitting with him
at the bar
used to be a
strapping
black man.

-T. D. James-Moss

"Perspective," A Poetry Post

I wonder if
in twenty years
kids will know that
flags
used to fly
all the way
up to the top
of the mast and
flow freely in the
sky's winds.

-T. D. James-Moss

"Permission," A Poetry Post

They say a man needs
permission
to leave his family.

Permission to
close his eyes and
rest from his
life of labors.

Permission to
stop suffering.

A man needs permission and
won't let go
unless you
say so.

Even when he's given
all he has and
has no resources,
he will keep pulling
at an empty chest,
scratching the bottom,
looking for a
ram
in the bush.

Even when he's used up
every ounce of his breathing on
struggle
he will keep
straining
against his lungs' request for
rest.

Even when he's
worked his
hands and knees and feet
to the bone
he will
keep going to work,
keep building,
keep destroying and
dragging away
the old timbers.

Even when he's old
and worn,
he won't let go.

He's a man.
He's a miracle.
He's a mountain.

And his woman,
his wife,
his sister,
his mother,
his aunt,
his daughter,
had better understand
his truth.

It may be you,
after all,
that is required
to shake his hand,
and call him inside
out of the rain,
and change his clothes,
and lay him down and tell him:

"Sleep now.
There is no more work
to do today
for you.
Your part is done,
and I can do mine
just fine.
Don't even worry.

I can take it
from here."

-T. D. James-Moss