Who is the disembodied voice
A poem of via my radicalization and How to Go Mad without Losing Your Mind: Madness and Black Radical Creativity by La Marr Jurelle Bruce
The disembodied voice comes from madness.
Comes from being Black from-and-in America at any time of day or the week.
Comes from stolen bodies and mountains and gold; lost bodies buried far from their names or homes.
The disembodied voice comes to me as I sleep to request tangerines and black seedless grapes at the offering plate of my altar, and, it comes as I wake, to demand i '“CRY CRY NOW YES, NOW ACHE.” The disembodied voice demands that I never move aside on my path. Not for any able-bodied man or woman, makes it a wish that the carriage of my spine and strut be enough to clear all ways… Or, in one particular case, gently gather the sperry-wearing, sparsely spaced fool out of my way beyond my fingertips (aka I shoved that man).
I’ll take being mad any day, if leaving it means neglecting the unnamed and unbodied. I honor their will to be transformed past their spirits’ transitioning and to be heard throughout all of my works.
Poem below
Disembodied voice, have a home In me, I provide a room, They give worlds and I, words to demand you see Them, be bodied in me, Faceless rage races page. I pray for tears and triumph, Counted up like numbers
As always, thank you for being here and joining the mess.
I’m gonna take a tip from a fellow writer and let this one be free for a bit and then lit it find its way to the paid shelves.