The Reconstruction

We were there when she fell apart .

When she became only fragments of the beauty she was before .

When they peeled the layers off of her ,

like a crawfish ,

and then popped her into their mouths,

chewing

until all of her substance fell into the pits of their stomachs .

After that, all that remained of her was an exoskeleton .

No more heart full of battered hope ,

nothing left worth protecting .

They must have been so hungry ,

the way they devoured everything she was .

We watched as they undid her like a garlic clove

but she was not bitter enough,

she was not powerful enough to make their eyes water ,

to grab them by the throat

and choke them on her own fragrant wrath

parts of her are thrown across the floor here ,

her essence has been torn apart and shredded

in a way that reminds her of her grandmother's

macaroni and cheese.

Now, it is a dark rust color,

like the golden crust on top, but some of the pieces are still the colors she were before.

brown as tobacco

red as earth

golden as the sun

and black as bodies left to burn in it

teeth white as wool .

One arm lies in Mississippi

the right leg is hanging from a tree in Alabama

the rest of the body is moving north

But the heart is stuck in Louisiana

And Texas ,

And Georgia ,

still beating for all the kin

who left too soon .

Her head was decapitated,

But the braids weaved into her skull are still crisp,

if you can believe it,

the soul?

We are still looking for that .

She is so many girls with hearts so big the world gets jealous,

So many girls, with dreams heavier than

the reality that has been weighed out for them

On that tired, broken down scale of justice.

The lady has developed holes in her blindfold you see,

and her sword has begun to inch closer and closer

to our necks

she has grown a stutter in her palm

she can’t seem to control ...

It’s why the girl was decollated .

If you squint long enough,

she can still appear to be in one piece .

She tricks you into thinking she is whole ,

by some magic I cannot explain .

That she is not thrown about a room somewhere

not laying in a shallow grave somewhere

did not die an early death somewhere

but believe me she is not alive .

She is not laughing .

She does not smile anymore; or sing any more.

She does not dance anymore .

She does not even cry anymore ,

and that exoskeleton I told you she is now ,

it moves about a world not knowing whether

it will make it until the next moment ,

without that spirit we still haven’t found yet.

Even still,

there have been times before when people

have reactivated enough emotion

to bring them back to life ;

and fill up their empty chests a little .

To make them passionate again ,

to keep them from sinking into,

no

drowning in their own sorrow .

From falling through waters made of past nightmares

and monsters that still haunt them at night ,

still feel real when they wake up gasping,

sweating through their clothes,

screaming until their ancestors wake up

to ask what’s wrong :

It made them adamant in their refusal to be taken apart .

They would not be destroyed again .

They used that rage,

The crippling memories

and lives turned ghosts,

drunk their own tears until their bodies built back up ,

It was a sensation that took away those feelings of damnation

and drained the helplessness out of them,

but it is was not hope , it was exasperation.

It was anger .

Those feelings light fires inside of the hearts of girls

who have lost their nerve ,

pick up pieces that have been scattered across this dirty earth ,

as if they are not holy ,

or living.

As if they are not beautiful ,

fragile like scar tissue

But willing to be ripped apart again all the same .

That's a small part of what bodies are for.

This despair makes them scream at the top of their lungs, too tired to care who hears them,

or what anyone thinks of the sound of their voice,

gracing the air with its shrill exhaustion and emotion

because they had forgotten what it meant to be emotional.

Could not recall what it felt like to not be ashamed of their own tears for so long,

and it feels good

to finally forget the world .

that’s what she did .

The girl finally found her soul.

It was ripped in half when we retrieved it,

but our mothers taught us how to sew ,

so we all made a stitch ,

there’s a faint scar ,

but it’s nothing like what was there before .