Jason Reynolds's Blog, page 14

Day 21 of 30

AN IMAGINED EXCERPT FROM FIRST LADY MICHELLE OBAMA’S POST-PRESIDENTIAL BOOK

and i told him

i loved him after

wiping his tears

and that i’d put the girls

to bed with bedtime

stories undoing the

day’s rumor that

their daddy was the devil

(the day before he was a monkey)

and then i showed

him my bruised knuckles

my bruised knuckles

which he kissed lovingly

as i explained how

i’d had another moment

and punched the wall

Day 20 of 30

SUPER

Lil man wears his favorite costume

Stands with his chest poked out

and x-ray goggles on

he sees into me he says

Lil lady ties her cape around her neck

pulls her hair back into ponytail

because there’s too much wind

when flying she says

They’re pretending

playing superhero

fantasizing about

life-saving power we say

But what if in fact

they are holding on

to a distant memory

What if they are trying

to remind us of ourselves

before we were made mutants

Day 19 of 30

ON THIS DAY

April 19th, 1977

Alex Haley is awarded Pulitzer Prize

for Roots

April 19th, 1994

Rodney King is awarded 3.8 million

for beating

April 19th, 2015

Jason Reynolds writes a poem

to declare

awards will never be enough

nor will they take away the

fact that you have yet to

call me by my name

Day 18 of 30

WARM

Do we still have to write poems

when it’s seventy-five

degrees outside?

Ain’t poems for the cold?

Ain’t they for blankets

and toddies?

Ain’t they for gray

and silence?

There are children

outside my window.

And I smell the jerk chicken

man down the block.

There is music.

The ice cream truck

will be here soon.

Ain’t that poem enough?

Day 17 of 30

AIRLINE, AMERICA

Was told that though this plane is small

comfort is guaranteed

along with peanuts

and televisions

a few people in first class

a few in business

the rest in coach

where we sit

you in front of me

but still same section

you recline

the seat back smashes against my knees

you push harder

I say stop

you ask why

I say it hurts

you say it can’t hurt

the plane was built for this

I say maybe it wasn’t built with me

in mind and it hurts

you say everyone has enough space

from first to coach

comfort is guaranteed

you’ve seen the ads

you heard the pilot

I say I don’t have enough

space and the pilot didn’t build

this plane he just keeps it

in the air and it hurts

you say stop complaining

you say I should just recline too

and be grateful that I’m going

somewhere

I say if you lift your seat

a little we could both be

comfortable you just laugh

and I say

it hurts

it hurts

it hurts

and before I can do anything

before I can make a move

there’s turbulence

and the intercom crackles on

and the pilot says

we’ve hit some rough air

so for your own safety

please stay seated

with seat belts fastened

Day 16 of 30

HOW TO RETURN TO SECOND GRADE

The worst part about

Writing haikus is all the

Counting on fingers

Day 15 of 30 (halfway there!)

CHICKENHAWK

If you should happen to catch air

The light wind lifting you from floor

Be careful of the call you share

The song you sing could cease your soar

For life is known for flippin’ birds

for grabbing wings and gripping tightly

You don’t just share but wear your words

Be sure to wear them well but lightly

Day 14 of 30

TO THE YOUNG PEOPLE I MET YESTERDAY (for my homies in Milwaukee)

1.) You are not victims.

2.) You are brilliant. Even if no one has ever told you. Even if you don’t think so.

3.) I can see you. Even when you try to dissappear. Even when they try to disappear you.

4.) I can hear you. There are screams in your eyes.

5.) You are brave. You got drum in your gut. You got sage on your tongue.

6.) You are the best story never told. Your life is a megaphone. Not a moment.

7.) You are not victims. Even if you have been victimized.

8.) You are brilliant. Be brave enough to accept that.

9.) I have known you. We used to Cotton Club. We used to jazz and blues. We used to hip-hop. We used to hopscotch. We used to ice cream truck. We used to Sunday dinner. We used to hide under the bed. We used to do each other’s hair. We used to try to dunk. We used to shush baby sister because mama needs to sleep. We used to crack jokes and slap box and all that. Don’t you remember? Don’t you recognize me?

10.) I recognize you.

Day 13 of 30

SPILLED MILK (For Eric Harris)

But Mama

what about

spilled blood?

Day 12 of 30

SHARD

Sometimes I am cracked glass

shards of splintering identity

and sharp reflection

of confusion

I am nervous enough to cry

I am nervous enough to shrink

to wrap myself in loose gauze

slide myself secretly

unsafely in someone

else’s pocket

If they dig for me

I will cut their fingers

They will bleed my fear

but I will drown