Elegy

thren•o•dy
Pronunciation: 'thre-n&-dE
Function: noun
Inflected Form(s): plural -dies
Etymology: Greek thrEnOidia, from thrEnos dirge + aeidein to sing -- more at DRONE, ODE
: a song of lamentation for the dead : ELEGY

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Elegy

Too many of you lie in the earth or burned to ash,
human sacrifices to the god of the streets,
random in his wrath,
exotic in his appetites.
No songs are sung for you,
our hearts too heavy with grief to form the words.
Death has found you too soon,
your lights extinguished before they began to shine.

© Elle Lassiter, 2004

diaspora

daughters and sons of dark and distant lands,
innocent children ripped from eden’s bosom,
american shores have tamed your wildness,
scattered your families, stolen your names, straightened your hair,
penned you like livestock in ghettos
out of sight of european eyes,
reduced your African pride to
ashes that blow away in western winds

desperate youth deal dope on corners,
inner-city sons and daughters chasing
american dreams denied them,
selling themselves short for pieces of silver,
peddling poison to other lost souls
out of hope for something better,
rejecting the teachings of their elders,
abandoning wisdom for profit

darkness hovers over the children of the Diaspora
i feel Africa’s suffering and grief,
acute anguish as another son lies bleeding on
southern streets, another mother’s heart broken,
passion of kings and queens played out
on trash-strewn sidewalks and in dirty alleyways,
rush of blood baptizing
asphalt fields of dreams deferred

don’t forget what it cost to bring us this far:
innumerable souls shipped across the ocean
ass to belly, human cargo packed into the gut of a whale,
so many swallowed up by the sea, more landing on these shores to
plant crops, pick cotton, nurse babies,
open legs to white strangers and bear pale children,
raped and broken, but surviving on the hope for
a future without chains, emancipated only to be

dragged behind trucks and hung from trees,
in backs of buses screaming for liberation,
a jim crow nightmare they longed to wake from,
separate and unequal, but struggling still,
price paid so you and i can stand here today, doors
open to us that were closed to our mothers and fathers, we
reap the benefits of their suffering, then treat them with indifference.
are all their efforts in vain?

daughters of the Diaspora, sweet sisters of sable skin,
i sing your sorrow as you bury your sons, watch with pride
as you strive to rise from the rubble of the past
sons of the Diaspora, bold and beautiful brothers,
put down your guns and knives, end your violence,
open the books that will break the chains that bind you.
rise up, brothers and sisters.
america awaits you.

© Elle Lassiter, 2004

Cyanosis

Can't breathe since you've gone,
your passing like a blow to the chest.
Air is too thick with pain for my lungs,
need choking me, weighing me down.
Oceans of tears drown me,
sea of sorrow suffocating me.
I'm turning blue here without you,
strangling in a noose made of grief.

(c) 2004, Elle Lassiter

Intuition

Inner voice whispering to me
not to rely on the proof of my eyes but
the truth of my heart.
Understanding is a seed in my belly,
its roots taking hold and spreading
through me, showing me the way.
I heed that voice,
open myself to it,
never doubt it again.

© Elle Lassiter, 2004

Alchemy

Ancient quest for perfection,
leaden model of the human soul
changed from its base imperfection into a
higher, purer form,
emerging perfected, golden.
Metamorphosis of metal
yielding spiritual reward.

© Elle Lassiter, 2004

Schism

Something has come between us,
changed the colour of our love to a darker hue,
livid and ugly like a bruise.
You stand staring at me across the divide.
I stretch out my hands to you,
but they won't reach,
try to repair the rift,
but fall into the gap

© Elle Lassiter, 2004

Uncle

My uncle chose the day
I was supposed to go to the circus
to go crazy,
a cold February morning
when then windows of his house
grew so offensive
the television cried out
in a strong voice
for him to take axe in hand
and remove them
and then himself.

I can still see him being led away,
hands cuffed behind his back,
stern-faced cops flanking him,
red blood screaming against his blue shirt,
hot tears streaming down my mother's flaming cheeks
as her sobs echoed in her bedroom.

He’d visit sporadically years later,
early Saturday mornings
when I was still in bed.
I’d feign sleep,
huddled beneath a shield of blankets,
but the acrid stink of his cigarettes still found me,
his basso rasp scratched through the walls
as my mother’s thin laughter crept in warily behind it.
I avoided him at family gatherings,
avoided him until the day of his funeral.
I hardly recognized the man in the coffin,
my guilty heart unwilling to accept
that mad fear had robbed me
of the chance to know him.

Even now, the face of a clown
can reduce me to tears.

© Elle Lassiter, 2004

This suit of flesh,
this weak and fragile body
clothing my soul,
makes me remember the me that came before.
With its feet I feel every step on the path to the eternal.
With its voice I give thanks for all I have suffered,
for this misery is a gift.
My pain tempers me like an iron in flame,
forging my spirit until
the illusion of mortality fades
and I am perfected.

(c) Elle Lassiter, 2004

Oasis

Ocean of loneliness stretched out before me,
anguish burning and bountiful like hot desert sand.
Salvation is an island in the distance.
I seek the shelter of your verdant eyes,
sip the sweet waters of your love.

© Elle Lassiter, 2004

Erstwhile

evenings like these i am
reminded we once
shared something special,
times i thought
would never end--

how could i have been so foolish?

i watch the rain beat down blossom and
leaf and know they will soon wither and fade.
everything eventually dies.

Chiaroscuro

chiar•oscu•ro
Pronunciation: -'skyur-(")O, -'skur-
Function: noun
Inflected Form(s): plural -ros
Etymology: Italian, from chiaro clear, light + oscuro obscure, dark
1 : pictorial representation in terms of light and shade without regard to color
2 a : the arrangement or treatment of light and dark parts in a pictorial work of art b : the interplay or contrast of dissimilar qualities (as of mood or character)
3 : a 16th century woodcut technique involving the use of several blocks to print different tones of the same color; also : a print made by this technique
4 : the interplay of light and shadow on or as if on a surface
5 : the quality of being veiled or partly in shadow

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Casual darkness dapples me,
hiding things I'd rather not remember.
I've chosen to forget
all the pain of the past, but I
realize that rebirth can
only come if I face my
shadow self.
Change is bought with pain,
understanding demands sacrifice. I will
reach through my inner darkness.
open myself to the light.

(c) Elle Lassiter, 2004

Flagrant

Flashing what God gave her,
legs stretching from high hem to ground,
arms and shoulders bare and brazen, the girl
grins lasciviously as she
reaches for a book from the highest shelf.
A silver-haired gent knocks over a stack of paperbacks, while
next to me a wide-hipped woman,
toddlers in tow, tsks her envy and disapproval.

(c) Elle Lassiter, 2004

palimpsest

Pages worn thin from countless alterations,
eraser-smudged lines faded and broken.
I take pen in hand and try to make corrections
but perfect words are hard to come by.
Suddenly, the fear I'll never get it right...
Is everything I've done in vain?
I scratch through words on paper,
try again to write my wrongs.

© Elle Lassiter, 2004