Aja Monet

I am 27 and have never killed a man but I know the face of death as if heirloom my country memorizes murder as lullaby —from “For Fahd” Textured with the sights and sounds of growing up in East New York in the nineties, to school on the South Side of Chicago, all the way to the olive groves of Palestine, My Mother Is a Freedom Fighter is Aja Monet’s ode to mothers, daughters, and sisters—the tiny gods who fight to change the world. Complemented by striking cover art from Carrie Mae Weems, these stunning poems tackle racism, sexism, genocide, displacement, heartbreak, and grief, but also love, motherhood, spirituality, and Black joy. Praise for Aja Monet: ““[Monet] is the true definition of an artist.” —Harry Belafonte ““In Paris, she walked out onto the stage, opened her mouth and spoke. At the first utterance I heard that rare something that said this is special and knew immediately that Aja Monet was one of the Ones who will mark the sound of the ages. She brings depth of voice to the voiceless, and through her we sing a powerful song.” —Carrie Mae Weems Of Cuban-Jamaican descent, Aja Monet is an internationally established poet, performer, singer, songwriter, educator, and human rights advocate. Monet is also the youngest person to win the legendary Nuyorican Poet’s Café Grand Slam title.

My Mother Was a Freedom Fighter

Marion

falling into one another words thrown at bare chests

he threw poverty at her head so fast one day had 

she no heart without which no love could overlook

 she would've said things he was not prepared to hear 

he was a series of small disappointments.

of secrets, they make love on grave sites i say this to say, your past never goes away ten years from now you may be caught pushing

your daughter in a cart down the grocery aisle and there are still those women women whose bodies tense and quake when they see you, whose blood boils with flashbacks of your fingers around their throat, your thrust breaking them open memories on aisle 4

perhaps you are a better man now but you still hold her tight in nightmares sometimes it's too late the memory is stale is poison and gangrene sometimes it must be cut off in order to live.

state violence is as intimate as a forced kiss, busted lip or bloodied eye

My Mother Was a Freedom Fighter quotes

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