I Remember Wanda


Trigger warning: language, racial slur

I Remember Wanda
by Carl Josehart

I remember Wanda
she’s the one who thought she was a turtle
and demanded we call her,

I met Wanda when I worked at a school for
cast off children with
garbage dump lives
refuse of society

clutching her purse,
one day,
she screamed at me across
miles of misunderstanding
and missed opportunities

“Suck my cock!”
and then called me a,
“white chocolate nigger”

we used to collect
hurtled at us like
the only way the
children had to
teach us about their

we’d save them and
play with them
pretending we didn’t
feel the sting of these
well targeted missiles

I guess if I lived in her world
I’d be a turtle too
a hard strong shell to
protect me when
words fall like rain
and soak the soul
in silent suffering and pain

Wanda…I remember

You might also appreciate Plant Peas and Let Me Be A Sponge

These Tiny Hands

“It has been said that time heals all wounds. I don’t agree. The wounds remain. Time – the mind, protecting its sanity – covers them with some scar tissue and the pain lessens, but it is never gone.”

– Rose Kennedy

Too many friends and loved ones have had to say goodbye to children – all taken too soon. My heart breaks with yours and I pray you find strength, comfort and courage to live with the pain.

These Tiny Hands
by Carl Josehart

These tiny hands
slender fingers
perfect and pretty
close around my finger
hold on tight
my little one

These tiny lips
tinged blue
still nurse and suck
nourishing a body betrayed
by nature’s random luck
my love run’s deep
and I have milk a plenty

This fragile body
yet grows
already scarred
and bruised
I pray my tears
will wash away your pain

This tiny heart
broken in half
still beats
inefficient pump
reluctantly fuels a powerful spirit
you smile
as if to comfort me
while I wonder
how I will care for you

These tiny hands
perfect and pretty
curl hopefully around my finger
hold on tight
my little one
nourishes a powerful spirit
will wash away the pain
gives us a chance to dream

This tiny life
touched by joy and sorrow
crawls slowly forward
toward an unforgiving destiny
tenderly I’ll hug you with open arms
a warm embrace
to cradle my precious one
on gentle upturned arms
to let your soul take flight

You may also appreciate Reflections on Julius , The Stories of Our People