Poetry by Joshua Bennett

I have an intimate affair with all things beautifully crafted with words.  Poetry being the pinnacle of it all.  I sketch my own pieces too, I don't fancy posting them publicly so chances are mighty slim that you'd read any of my work here.  However, I will share with you the written mastery of others, quite so often.

[Also, I've been terribly occupied and I extended starting this blog because I felt that I didn't want to blog the odd post every couple of months; and already I've fallen prey to doing so.  I won't whinge about what's been consuming my time, but I'll work at delivering at a more frequent pace.  This is not a fashion/picture/quotes/etc. blog, so I have to dedicate more to writing then just copying and pasting pics and what-nots.  More worthwhile visits, maybe?]

10 Things I Want To Say To A Black Woman by Joshua Bennett watch it here.

A fellow 'twitterer' suggested I pay attention to it months ago after reading my blog and finding that I'm a lover of poetry.  He has since come back to me with a differing opinion, but we'll leave that to the birds.

I was awe-struck.  And thankful because, I've grown to love Joshua's writing and how he delivers and executes his art.

I then watched his performance at the White House Evening of Poetry, Music and Spoken Word, where he received a standing ovation from the President, his First Lady and about 200 guests. In a spoken word and sign language piece, "Tamara's Opus", dedicated to his sister.

Instead of posting another link to a video, which you'd probably stumble upon after watching the aforementioned one.  I will post the poem itself, it is highlighted by asterisks, where Joshua signs these words.

Tamara has never listened to hip hop.
Never danced to the rhythm of raindrops or fallen asleep to a chorus of chirping crickets. She has been Deaf
for as long as I’ve been alive.
And ever since the day I first turned five my father has said:
“Joshua.
Nothing is wrong with Tamara.
*God just makes
some people
different.*”
And at that moment
those nine letters felt like hammers
swung gracefully by unholy hands to shatter my stained glass innocence
into shards that can never be pieced back together
or do anything more than sever the ties between my sister and I. I waited,
was patient numberless years anticipating the second her ears would open like lotuses and allow my sunlight senses to seep into her insides
make her remember
all of those conversations we must have had in heaven back when God handpicked us to be sibling souls centuries ago.
I still remember
her 20th birthday.
Readily recall my awe-struck 11 year old eyes as I watched Deaf men and women of all ages dance in unison to the vibration of speakers booming so loud
that I imagined angels chastising us for disturbing their worship with such beautiful blasphemy.
Until you have seen *a Deaf girl dance, you know
nothing
of passion.*
There was a barricade between us that I never took the time to destroy never even for a moment thought to look up the sign for *sister, for family, for goodbye. I will see you again someday.*
remember the face
of your little brother.
It is only now I see
that I was never willing to put in the extra effort to love her properly.
So as the only person in my family who is not fluent in sign language
I’ve decided to take this time to apologize.
Tamara
*I am sorry
for my silence.*
For true love knows no frequency, and so
I will use these hands to speak volumes that can never be contained within the boundaries of sound waves
I will shout at the top of my fingertips until digits dance and relay these mental messages directly to your soul.
I know
that there is no poem
that can make up for all the time we have lost so
please,
if you can,
*just listen.*