In The Recognition Of Loving Lies The

Perhaps...i Am The Face Of One Of Your Fears. Because I Am A Woman, Because I Am Black, Because I Am A Lesbian, Because I Am Myself--a Black Woman Warrior Poet Doing My Work--come To Ask You, Are You Doing Yours?

If You Come As Softly As Wind Within The Trees You May Hear What I Hear See What Sorrow Sees. If You Come As Lightly As Threading Dew I Will Take You Gladly Nor Ask More Of You. You May Sit Beside Me Silent As A Breath Only Those Who Stay Dead Shall Remember Death. And If You Come I Will Be Silent Nor Speak Harsh Words To You. I Will Not Ask You Why, Now. Or How, Or What You Do. We Shall Sit Here, Softly Beneath Two Different Years And The Rich Earth Between Us Shall Drink Our Tears.

There Is No Hierarchy Of Oppressions

As We Come To Know, Accept, And Explore Our Feelings, They Will Become Sanctuaries And Fortresses And Spawning Grounds For The Most Radical And Daring Of Ideas-the House Of Difference So Necessary To Change And The Conceptualization Of Any Meaningful Action.

Because The Machine Will Try To Grind You Into Dust Anyway, Whether Or Not We Speak.