Poetry by Farah Lawal Harris

Posts tagged “honor


i’m a woman but
you got me giggling like a little girl.
i can be hard but
i have softened,
silly putty in your hands.
your hands.
how profound that i got so used to my own,
forgot the sensation of fingertips
meeting the identity maps of others.
i remember.
i am honored.
i am giggling girl-woman-baby
smiling, cooing,
no longer pursuing
but caught.


Black Nostalgia

old black men love me
when i appear in their view,
eyes get brighter and burdens don’t feel
as heavy,
the corners of their mouths awaken because
when they see me
they see the 70’s.
i am reminiscent of another era,
of times of relaxation, groove, and black pride,
a time when black women took pride
in how they were born and contemporary times
hadn’t yet made them ashamed of their backsides.
hips celebrated while struttin down streets in hot pants,
quality music rotating on records so smoothly that life was a dance.
i wish i could go back
to this time i never knew,
pull out some afro sheen and a pick and
not have to feel like my hair and personality is too big and
exchange my stretch jeans and MAC lipstick for
a leather jacket and hope that my people would never forget
that black is beautiful!

i wish i could be a soul sista,
you know the type of sista
who lives on movie posters like Pam Grier
rockin sexy outfits and not scared
to walk alone at night.
you know the type of sista
who lives in documentaries
like Angela Davis, rollin with revolutionaries
to serve and protect the black community,
standing up against the ills of society,
willing to go to jail if it means
keeping up the fight.

i wish i could be a soul sista,
providing more than just twinkles in eyes
and smiles as my elders sweetly say “Hi”
not to me, but to their past.
i wish i could go back
to that time i never knew and retract
all the wrongs of today and extract
all the joys of yesterday,
using my afro and skin to honor and celebrate
the black nostalgia in old black men
who love me.