My momma never told a lie, she couldn’t when the truth was clear
Through stretch marks and crow’s feet, the truth is what she told me
Not through words, but through the curve of her hips
The gleam in her eyes . . . the memories on her lips
She is so beautiful, that her skin can’t even keep her concealed
She is so beautiful, that in her early days
she carried another life inside her, manifested the fire
Sending her existence higher
She has tracks on her breasts, stretched and pressed
from days when there was no time to rest
And she gave birth to my dreams, unselfishly
Because hers she could not see
She never told me how to live, she showed me
She showed me the moon, sun and stars in her belly
She showed me the dirt on the soles of her feet
Cracked and worn into painfully beautiful designs
Marking her travels . . . and mine
My spirit, dances in her eyes
And no matter how far I try to run, there inside I will reside
And when she flies, part of me will die
Lifeline stretched like the marks on belly and breast
And I will strive to survive with the rest
Imitating her breath
Rhythms resumed inside heart head and womb and she whispers to me in my dreams
that things aren’t always what they seem
She tells me that I am things I cannot conceive
She tells me that my hips could never be too big
And that those stretch marks don’t mean a thing
She says, that’s just your flesh trying to sing!
She says, don’t ever let someone try to take what is within
And if they tell you you’re too big for a woman
Tell them you’re just too big for your skin
Tell them, a body, just can’t hold all this beauty
Tell them, they only wish they had hills and valleys like the Earth
They can criticize, but they will never give birth
to the love that rests in your breast
They will never see the life in your hands
And you can never expect them to understand
Too big for your skin she says, too big for this Earth
Too big for anyone to ever determine your worth
Lips like peaches, plump nectar sweet
When your belly shakes with laughter it sends earthquakes and tremors
Keeping time with your heart beat, arms like ivy
Twisting, taking it all into your hands
Fingertips like matches, setting flames to all you touch
They may try to call you a witch
Because they cannot grasp the magic you possess
They cannot even begin to imagine the tenderness of your caress
Your memory, expands past what your eyes can see
And you can use this knowledge to set you free
You, are, too, big, for, your, skin
Not too skinny, too fat, too ugly, too pretty
Too white, too black
She says
You, are too big for your skin
And honey, there ain’t one thing bad about that

Desdamona is an international award-winning artist who has taken her distinctive lyrics, sound, and artistic stylings to audiences from Minnesota to Hawaii, from Puerto Rico to Germany, gracing some of hip-hop and poetry’s most illustrious stages.

Posted in: Poetry
Tagged: 2011