
There is a power in saying, “I am a writer.”
In the right circumstances, that title is
There is a power in saying, “I am a writer.”
In the right circumstances, that title is
I have been at the ‘writing thing’ professionally for about 8 years now. And when I was in my last serious relationship, he had the habit of telling me “Babe, you gotta say something about this!” I will give him this credit: he forever was telling me that I could write. For that, I am grateful.
Yet, that is the most powerful thing of this mystical art. You have the command of an alphabet, of a language (one or more if you are one of the cool kids! Shouts to the multilingual writers!), with the ability to say anything. From the dynamic to the controversial, to the hot takes or cold, hard facts–you have the ability to say everything you see to say.
So…say it. Write it down. Publish it. Share it.
But, say it–because it just might need to be said.
The thing that is interesting about being a writer–and not even a ‘famous’ writer!–is there is always this desire to chime in on the world around you.
And when people know you write, that desire increases ten-fold!
I call this: The Burden Of The Pen.
The Burden Of The Pen.
Noun. The desire to write about all that you see which may be pertinent or pervasive to culture, policy or to add to greater conversations.
-coined by JBHarris, March 2022
This mini-series will reflect on this desire to say everything, when to say anything, and how dangerous it is to say nothing.
May 9: Say Anything
May 16: Say Something
May 23: I Don’t Know What to Say
May 30: Here Is What I Have To Say
This collection of poetry for this particular April 2022 was personal and freeing. As these pieces were published here, I did 30 days of poetry on TikTok as well (look for the playlist 30 Days of Jaye 2022). This was needed and necessary.
This year I have become the personification of this quote:
“I have so completely given over to the talent, that I cannot bare to doubt its power.”
-JBHarris, April 2022
There were ideas that bubbled up this month, poems written in the matter of hours, and books of poetry found on my phone.
Yes, my phone.
This month was a reminder to do what Baldwin said: do my work. My job as a writer, as a keeper of space, is to fill that space. My job is to keep going, keep creating, keep sharpening the weapons of my warfare.
There is much left to do, much more to say, and there is work indeed to do.
When they see us
they want to be us
knowing that only we can be us!
from the swivel of hip
to haircuts
to the box braids
to the colors that
inhabit our skin
are melanin and
I hear that springs forth
as halos from the top of our heads?
only we can be us
because we got us
cause we came from us
the ancestors are
about the future at
our forward and
our eyes are still yet
watching God from
the belly of ships
to the White House
on the front steps—-
we are indeed everywhere!
there was no space
for blackness cannot touch!
and it is irredeemable
from whiteness,
but distinct from whiteness
yet black as where the unnecessary
Thinks is where whiteness
goes to die there—
There is no peace
of my blackness as
they wipe your skin
and have it and not
be touched and transform
The I am straight
with no I am straight
with no pay with
no chase a clear without
apology and I staying
as a non-binary
with me being necessary
the we that got us
is the way they got me
in the way that is
inside of me takes care
of all enemies when
the ancestor said as
we were taken from Shores
I am we
the I In the I AM
with was identity
the we was always their company
we are never by ourselves.
-JBHarris, March 2022
We can trace
The fall of any
Kingdom to
Once held together
By love—
Both its power
It’s devotion,
And secrets
The moment
The queen rose,
Seeing the king
Not as comfort
——but as enemy.
Determined to free
Herself from what
Was love
Now made trap
By the bed made
By selfishness,
Indifference and
Apathy which try
To maintain holds
Over hearts and
Minds through the
Joining of body
With the familiar
Lift and lilt of
Love making which
Allows body and
Mind to separate
So both don’t have
To endure the affliction
Of the lie that is
This I love you
At the same time.
For freedom, she must choose violence.
For freedom, she must choose herself.
–JBHarris, May 2021
1990s R&B will have you thinking Anyone would love To be chosen by you it would have you thinking that every man that has lost you is somewhere with a pen and a paper crying as he remembers your face the curve of your back … Continue reading 30 DAYS OF JAYE-DAY 28: When Zhane Sang Sending My Love
I find it funny when men say that I’m bitter. I’m not bitter, I’m tired I’m tired of having my time played with, my body use my heart exposed my body betrayed– I’m not bitter, I’m tired. I’m tired of the assumption being that “I’m … Continue reading 30 DAYS OF JAYE-DAY 27: Ain’t No Lemonade
I no longer watch for he
Who claimed to
Watch over me.
Queens don’t have
Enough hours in their
days—
and the nights have too many.
In the absence of
A King, there is the always
the waiting—
waiting for him
on wings or stallion
or slow moving steed
to come to look up,
Seeing you beautiful
and pristine, preserved
in the tower by which
the love you gave to him
imprisons you—
for belonging to one
blind in one eye,
chasing the cares of
the world, with
your heart
in his back pocket.
see that you
were waiting
the whole time
Through tide and sunset
and moonlight
you waited and waited
because queens’ days
have not enough hours
in their days
and their nights
have too many.
In the waiting, you age.
You want.
You break silently.
Dying cut by cut.
Dying by unanswered messages,
missed calls,
cancelled visits and
always the promise of
together will happen
through the lips that lie
and still say trust me
because queens have not
Enough hours in their days
and their nights
have too many.
I have taken myself
from the window,
away from the
Widows walk…
I no longer wait
on the sun neither
do I cry or the moon
and her beams
To comfort me.
I’m alone now.
building my own kingdom
because queens don’t have
Enough hours in their days
and their nights have too many.
In order to rule,
I must master myself first.
My soul was never in his pocket
Truth and love
Never marrying
To the peace
Granted through
Commitment, wedded
Through time and space
my heart was never his
so my love was always mine
-JBHarris, May 2021
The day that
I am no longer
in love with you
will be surgical
I’ve decided
quick clean
minimal bleeding
minimal scarring.
It will just be over.
-JBHarris, September 2021