Pursuer

He said
"I want to be in you."
Pause.
I grabbed my bags
and retreated slowly
in polite decline.
I'd known of him for years but
never knew him to be so
forthright.
And he was so
Light:
His presence could be
but an essence
in any room
and still be overwhelming.
For me.
I'd always felt him,
even when others occupied my time,
my mind,
but I had no idea that the feeling
was mutual,
that someone so wonderful
had enough love left
just for me.

He said,
"I want to be in you"
Not selfishly or temporarily but eternally.
I ran (bags and all),
this kind of love
too much for me.
If I let him in,
where would I go?
Who would be able to
love me,
with a pursuer so
jealous?
I mean,
he sent his people
he closed in walls
he isolated me and said
"Love me."
As I loved myself
as I loved others
as I elevated everything in my heart
but him,
he said that he needed a place there:
"Set me as a seal upon your heart
As a seal upon your arm
For is love is strong as death
Jealousy as fierce as the grave..."

I kept running, afraid.
He kept coming, lovingly,
scroll,
in pursuit.
I feared him,
but I knew I loved him
in spite of everything I
thought I wanted or
knew I needed.
He had come to me
unsummoned
so many times.
He was more than a friend
by then.
He had taken the weight of
my bags as
his burden.
He comforted me in the cover of
the night and even shamelessly in the light of day.
Loving me.
He died loving me.
So I let him in.
Markeysha Dawn Davis
Doctoral Candidate
W. E. B. Du Bois Department of Afro-American Studies
University of Massachusetts Amherst
(313) 318-1831
mddavis@afroam.umass.edu

A Pre-Position

Me myself I
Us ourselves we
What could become
with no
conjunctions?
"I" functioning
without "U,"
and we're short
a few,
just to get technical.
Vows aren't
vows without
vowels.
Symbols are
unreal.
But signs indicate
how we feel.
Still,
I hold pen in hand
while you
grasp pride
fear...
Fate ain't enough
for some,
but understand
that it's not up for
consideration.
Billie was blue enough
for all of us;
I'm trying to live
in the green,
so I guess I'll
go and keep it
moving.
No refrain.
No repeat.
No coda.
My mode is
progressive,
ever-building,
like Trane,
my existence in the breaks of your melody:
Not what you're used to
but profoundly comforting.
I don't want to write you a love song
unless it's Supreme,
centered in Creation.
You can't realize
the new
while stationed,
so move.
Don't make a
pass
if I throw.
Go.

In search of Francois Dillinger?

I love Michael Cera. I mean, really. He's perhaps the most lovable, young loser in Hollywood at this point--on film at least. But above all, in each character he takes on there is a steadfastness that even the most macho or popular guy (generally pitted as his foil) cannot rival. Having admired his adorably unassuming edge in both "Arrested Development" as George Michael Bluth and in "Superbad" as Evan, I have to admit that I fell in love with him as Nick Twisp in "Youth in Revolt" just today. Or maybe it wasn't him as Nick...but as Francois Dillinger...the bad ass, suicidal French man he conjures as an alter-ego at the behest of his demanding crush, Sheeni. Twisp himself was incapable of little more than sideways snipes at his mother's lovers and a neat "self-session" undercovers before he "made" Francois. But as the movie reveals, Francois--seeing the desperation of his 16-year-old creator 1) not to be alone and more importantly, 2) not to die a virgin--seemingly reverses the roles on Twisp and recreates him....see video :)

Dillenger in Action

This movie, charming and hilarious as it is, has its obvious limitations...despite my love for Cera/Twisp/Dillinger. First and foremost, and probably the only point that need be made, there is no way in HELL that any of this could happen. To anyone. Ever. The shit that Nick Twisp goes through for Sheeni --from blowing up his mother's car and trailer and propelling his father's car off of a cliff with a rock to the gas pedal to having Sheeni drugged at school each morning to make her fail classes--is as useless and unrealistic as it is comical. But the point is that he does all of these things in order to solely catch her attention or because she's voiced her expectation for him to be a willing bad-ass (even acceptable to the point that it screws her over and gets her kicked out of French prep-school). Taken away from its context and the humor removed, we see a near universal story of boy-meets-girl/boy-likes-girl/girl-makes-expectations-known (or often plays/is hard to get)/ boy-gets-girl. If life was this formulaic, there would be no need for a Twisp to remind us of our own failures at love.

Where am I going with this? Well, there's been a slew of articles pitting black women, like myself (young, employed, educated, attractive, and supposedly "middle-class"), against black men (some with the same qualifications) and, for the overzealous blogger/columnist, against the very world in which we live and work. Black women are alone, according to these writers, because they are too smart, too demanding, too inaccessible, make too much money, work too many hours, and have too many needs. Unashamed, I admit to be one of this number of single black women over 25, but contrary to popular belief, my singleness is by choice. I can't link my choice to emotional scarring or even divine influence because neither would do justice to the freedom I feel. There is not the weight of performing femininity to the extent that I am lost in a man's expectations of me, in opposition to who I am allowed to be when he is not present-- a snort-laughing, Will Ferrell-loving gamer who prefers bare feet to stilettos and wedge heels and Blue Moons and Handi-Snacks to wine-and-cheese tastings. Nor is there the burden of dictating an impossible masculine identity to a man I am hardly allowed to know because of my stark expectations of him, a la Sheeni in "Youth in Revolt." However, it seems I'm alone in loving this freedom sometimes because people (not exclusively black men and women) get so caught up in performances of masculinity and femininity that they miss the chance to get to know the person they are interested in beyond gender.

It takes a long time for a lot of us to realize that we cannot create the man or woman we want and that this fact does not mean settling...nor does it mean to adhere to any kind of racial dating "anarchy" in revolt against a particular group of men or women who you "don't get". Love is a hell of a lot more than a list of demands and a swapping of bodily fluid, but for most, anything more seems uncomfortable...unfathomable even. While a Francois Dillinger appeals to me, it is not because I relate to the bratty, bumbling idiot that Sheeni was. It's because he was a bad-ass, pure and simple :)...and by all means not an expectation I'd place on other men. However, the point that Twisp, via Dillinger, was able to take risks on his own accord to demonstrate his affection and even vocalize his desire to be with Sheeni (regardless of how crazy he seemed to me and everyone watching the film with me) helped me visualize the way that I expect to be courted. Whoever chooses to love me should be unashamed to do so and, on his own accord, be willing to take selfless risks that will strengthen our bond. I can't define these things now of course because the ways we need to be loved change with our life experiences. And believe that I'm not asking a man to do the impossible, but more notedly to not be afraid to take a chance for fear of rejection. I just know I expect these things because this is the way that I love, which is why Cera's character(s), crazy as they were written, touched me so :).

Maybe someone will read this and completely miss the point (highly likely); others may say "me too" while laughing at my blog picturing me waiting for a Francois Dillinger ready to tell me the business. As a single black woman with both social history and "current trends" allied against me, why not dream of Francois?

10 Random Lessons Learned in 2010...so far

1. Never anticipate anything to be the "best (insert timeframe/holiday) ever". It just won't live up to your expectations.

2. Prayer works, but be clear what you're asking for. Please.

3. Giving is still my favorite pasttime.

4. Hennessey is yummy.

5. Both Tyler Perry and Trey Songz need to be stopped.

6. I'm addicted to social networking. Help.

7. Nothing is more annoying than when a guy apparently likes you, but you can't tell if it is because he wants you or because he wants to be you.

8. Lord-willing, a mini-van full of kids will due. No more than that.

9. Dave Chappelle may be the greatest comedian alive...even in a hiatus.

10. The Aubrey Graham phenomenon is a tragedy that brings people closer
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Paciencia y Fe

I have to be the biggest control freak under the sun. So much so that I don't even allow myself to freak out when something doesn't go as planned or as expected. The more I live with this fact and dialogue with God about it, the more I come to realize that I truly have no control or say in what becomes me over time. The most I can do is keep peace, pay bills, and meet my responsibilities while God works in the background.

This realization makes me feel all kinds of crazy. Before I came to know Christ, I approached my entire life as a DIY project. Got pain? Take an aspirin and throw some ice on it; better yet, walk it off. Need money? Go hustle. Lonely? Get cute and go scoop someone up. Only now do I realize that I had little say in any of these things. I was healed because God saw that I was to be. I was supported financially (in more cases than a few) because He wanted me to be secure. He provided company for me, even temporarily, because he didn't want me desperately seeking an attention or companionship that I really didn't need. When I reflect on many of these moments where I thought I was at the control playing Mario or Sonic, winning the game, God came through to let me know that I was merely Tails...Luigi at best...in the lifepath that He's shaped for me.

With this understanding of my lack of autonomous control over my life, I have to be patient with and faithful to God's will. There are several things I want and pray about often that I think He does not feel that I'm ready for yet. But even in this, he is continuously providing, making sure that I never have want for anything. Some things can't merely be attributed to "luck", y'all; I can testify to this several times over.

For the meantime, while I take care of my earthly responsibilities, I'll just wait and let Him work. Who knows what is in store...


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It's late, I'm up, so why not...?

Haiku

I.

We dance breezily,
Lithe, as the wind catches hold,
Our shadows merging

II.

The eve sky foregrounds
Calming vermilion dreams
A glowing sequence

A Shortie

Taking on the pages
first,
I engage you,
as not to
phase you out.
I
have been here long enough
to stand here longer
to sit
wait
react
only in thought
or in keystrokes
indirectly aimed
at your heart.
There's a start:
Lazy lines of
energy via QWERTY
keying, thinking
I'm being bold. I'm
cold because
I can hold your gaze
long enough to
refresh your page
and see what
truths are revealed
about me
in a nanosecond.
I am legend,
known for my
wordplay
but this game ends soon,
with or without penalty,
I assume.