The true focus of revolutionary change is never merely the oppressive situations which we seek to escape, but that piece of the oppressor which is planted deep within each of us.

Do not mistake my flesh for the enemy
do not write my name in the dust
before the shrine of the god of smallpox
for we are all children of Eshu
god of chance and the unpredictable
and we each wear many changes
inside of our skin.

Armed with scars
healed
in many different colors
I look into my own faces
as Eshu’s daughter crying
if we do not stop killing
the other
in ourselves
the self we hate
in others
soon we shall all lie
in the same direction

If I were a drum you would beat me listening for the echo of your own touch not seeking the voice of the spirit inside the drum only the spreading out shape of your own hand on my skin cover.

If I ever really sounded I would rupture your eardrums or your heart.

If they cannot love and resist at the same time, they probably will not survive.