The first time your heart
Will break in front
of your daughter
It will be to your silence
And eyes that betray
Neither age
Nor suffering.
You will smile.
You will talk to her.
You will keep watching your movie.
You will remember.
You will swallow his name
To put it back into
Your heart,
Hoping it for not
To rise again.
-JBHarris, 6.2023
Written after my ex-husband’s wife threatened to call the police on my daughter for screaming at her brother, making a bad joke, and her stepmother of a decade became Carolyn Bryant.
To the White woman
who tried to call
the police on my child—
The prophets tell us
that there is
nothing new under the sun,
and because there is
nothing new under
the sun,
It is of great
and grave expectation
that Black woman
are never dumb.
But you
like me
who hold life
on the inside of you,
yet you pull death
from your mouth,
aiming at a child
who is defenseless
in this world,
whose only
recourse is to
Call the only name
she knows other
than God—
Mama.
And her roar be but
whisper to you
and hurricane wind
to me
and I will sprout up
as wings as eagles
as Isaiah spoke
about to see
where the tears
have come from.
hiding her behind me
I stand in front of her
and death daily —
You do not scare me.
I push death back
into your mouth
that you may breed
and birth it as you
and all your kin
have known to
do for centuries.
you will not devour mine.
She knows who she is
to whom she belongs
and she knows
that she is part
Of Maya’s 10,000.
Plus 1.
She has my blood in her
Divine Father on the inside
of her
and how dare you
try and stifle life
in her that has
already begun!
Because when Black women cry,
even in girlhood,
they summons
the 10,000 who will
protect her
arm her
show her the faces
of enemy from a long way off.
These ancestors which
she will take with
her always,
and as the prophet said,
there is nothing
new under the sun
In life and death
is in the power
of the tongue in
those who choose
we eat the fruit of it.
Your fruit is chosen—
curse is already on your line.
Me and mine?
We gon be just fine.
-JBHarris, 5.25.2023
It is of the rolling of
Water in muddy rivers
That give the rebel
To the Belles along
Mississippi banks–
Give roar to what
Should have been
Whisper.
Gave power in havoc
Passion in chaos
And Anna became
Tina to tell us
How to get over
And the end of
One life is the
Gift of another.
The ancestral is God’s memory after all.
that is memory
Is gifted as
Music.
-JBHarris, 5.24.2023
Written after the passing of Tina Turner at age 83. STL KIDS CHANGE THE WORLD.
Note: The line “No Black boys die on Mother’s Day” is taken from the poem of the same name from the book A PECULIAR PEOPLE by Steven Willis.
On the Internet,
there’s always
a thread going
that wishes mothers
happy Mother’s Day.
the one day
of the year
that the women
who are charged with
running the world are
supposed to put their feet up–
and yet the feet are up
and at’em
making sure kids
faces are washed
Breakfast is made
and coffee may be
sipped cold–
if at all.
on Mother’s Day,
we celebrate the
mothers of queer children
Disgarded and forgotten
By family of their births
the mothers who
are aunties by blood,
mothers who do
the job of mothering
when no one else would
whether it be in classrooms,
boardrooms, or in laundromats.
mother is both
noun and verb–
and because it is both-
–a thing and an action–
it is constantly needed
I know there was a poet
that one time that said
“no Black boys die on Mother’s Day”
because life is present
wherever a mother may be
Or lay their heads.
Happy Mother’s Day
to the women who
decided to mother,
even when they did
not know how
happy Mother’s Day
to the women who
stand in the gap,
and fill the gap,
and know how
to slap
away all things
by which attack the
children that are
in their charge.
Because trust and believe
no village is complete without a mother…
It is the women of your blood
that have gotten you this far.
It is the women of
your understanding
and of your ancestral forgetting
who have gotten you
to a place
by which you,too,
can step into the realm
known as mother.
Whether your womanhood be new
Forming, learned or Ancient,
because we know the ancient of days is also an us…
Happy Mother’s Day
is the whisper of breezes
through open windows
on summer nights
is why we fight
it is how we rage
against the dying
of the light…
go on mother we see you.
-JBHarris, 5.14.23
when they tell you
to write your bio,
tell them your pronouns
are try and me.
when they ask
your job description
your designation,
your pay rate
tell them you are
a troublemaker,
and you were
born to be a problem.
Show them your skin tone
the color of sun–
of the most excellent Earth,
by which your ancestors
were chained to,
brought from
you have every right
to exist
to challenge
to be
and be outspoken
even when your voice shakes.
be in the room
to bring others in
the room.
Let nothing be the same after us.
In this the holiest
of representation
of the I in us,
and we in them,
no, and we be the people
by which they represent.
We are going nowhere.
We are whom your ancestors
Warned about:
Melanin-wrapped memory.
Whom are called and unbowed
We are here and are coming.
There is no door locked us
because we will
bust out windows.
Change is here.
Let it continue with us.
-JBHarris, 4/7-2023
Written in response to the 2 Tennessee Representatives expelled from the Tennessee House of Representatives in April 2023. They were expelled because they were demanding gun reform. On 4/7, they were reinstated.
Who does she think she is?
All bold and brash and black
who does she think she is?
being able to do everything
that white girls do!
doesnt she know she
has to shrink back?
Who does she think she is?
Does she know she can’t do that here?
Don’t you know down here
Where mortals play that
she has to do just like they say?
And in the blackest way possible,
with the energy unstoppable
she give it right back to them,
wherever they are…
Whether in a park, a Court,
at stoplights or the street cars—
shrink back for what?
All that I am,
all that I was,
it’s just like Maya said:
I don’t come as one, but I stand as 10,000…
Who gon’ run up on me?
If the I in me
And I in Him
if they’re if there can
Be only one,
let that one be me.
Been betting on myself,
by myself,
and for myself,
because my people
are the great cloud of witnesses.
Whether it be ESPN or a drive-in
whether on movie screens,
on board rooms,
even on on free apps
That the people sneak
Out to check in break rooms
to watch me when
the residents are taking naps
I will be right here
With that same energy, you meet me with.
I know that Michelle told us when they go low, we go high
But now… Sometimes, when they go low, you got a let them know where else they can go
See this skin
Be that vibrainium
And it activates this ancestor
Suit—
most powerful, kinetic energy
Since my people
are of the Sun
by the sun and saved
by the Son,
who are you to tell me
what I can’t do?
There’s no need to tell me to leave.
Especially, when I was here first.
-JBHarris, 4.3.2023
Note: This piece was written in response to the backlash that Angel Reese has gotten all year. This nation has a sick obsession with humbling Black women. If that be so, if we can’t be the hero? Then we gonna be the villain. Either way we gon’ win.
I believe that love is a poet’s first work. With the work we create, we remind, equip and help to leave beauty in the world. I believe it was 2 years ago that I had the series Memories From The Broken Hearted Girl where I … Continue reading Being A Love Poet
My adopted brother, LeArthur Antonio Lee, died January 6. He was a brainstorming partner, my trusted friend, music, producer, confidant and all-around good dude.
I miss him. -JBHarris
God gave me a brother-
I forgot He was gonna need him back.
Someone to talk shop with
laugh with—
cry to, and be
reminded that everything
in me is neither fraud,
nor to be afraid of.
For all that burned in him,
finding peace between
Ebony and Ivory,
he gave pieces back
to the world which
had not given all
he demanded.
And now…
those fingers are still.
The keyboards dusty.
The songs unsung.
Melodies change into memories.
And we all don’t know what to do.
God gave me a brother—
I forgot He was gonna need him back.
-JBHarris, January 2023
Tell me where my sister is
because the days are long
and the night is dark.
Tell me where my sister is
because I know she is
somewhere
wounded, weary and sad.
Tell me where my sister is
because I know
somewhere she is trying
to breathe underwater
and concrete
and tree roots
and she is trying
to get back to me
tell me where my sister is
so that I may be comfort to her
tell me where my sister is
because I cannot seem to find her.
someone please let my sister
know that I am on the lookout for her
that I am looking for her
in grass and water
and trees
and mirror.
let my sister know that she is not by herself.
Let my sister know
I see her face
as my face
As I seek after my own self
and bring healing with me.
Tell my sister that I am on my way.
Tell my sister I bring
ancestral help with me
because God has equipped
me to find her for just such a time is this
to remind her that she will not die here!
strengthen me again oh God,
So I might find my sister,
remind her of the divinity
which rests on the inside
of her
let my sister know
she doesn’t have to hold her breath
For much longer because
Who were coming
are coming
and are now here
that she would be rescued.
All she need do is to exist.
tell me where my sister is
because the days are long and night is coming.
JBHarris, December 2022
(written in response to the backlash of Megan Jovon Ruth Pete AKA Meg Thee Stallion during the and the trial of Tory Lanez when he was accused of shooting her.
While this piece was not included in this printed work, it was too good not to share. -JBH
When I asked you
to be my first,
I meant that
first—
last
The everything
first time
my legs would shake
on your shoulders.
The first time
I will ever feel a
spread in my hips
to the point every chakra
would realign to
ruin me for
any other man
that would dare
look at me
knowing that I was yours
deeper than senses
longer than love
quicker than Lightning flashes –
that kind of belonging
you can’t buy…
that kind of power—
you can’t mimic
when I asked you
into my body
to be the first
to explore
to awaken
to erupt everything in me
that was meant for you
I meant that.
I meant that,
like God is real
admitting all I held
for you—
would belong to you,
which means there
was a lock on the inside
of me with
your name on it—
If you thought my
mouth was slick,
You’ll find out
What else already is
A lock that
no one could find
but you—
Just like they put
names on hollow point
bullets so that the soul
will be captured,
I wanted to be
captured—
to be held
to be found
by you and none but you.
Knowing the caliber of love
and love making,
Relentless exploration
that the kids call fucking
you would give to me
—and only me —
because I asked
it of you.
when I asked you
to be my first
I meant for you
to be the last
because how often
do you get to
touch the sun
and live to tell about it?
-JBHarris, October 2022
I Breathe Fire 