Black Women Cry Purple Tears

Black women cry purple tears
After years, and years of loneliness,
abandonment, and betrayal.

They croon blues songs in tune
with false promises
Of lost lovers who watched them
cry themselves into lakes.

Purple tears. Deep violet tears they cry.

Tears that clog city drains
With desperate calls for freedom
From rotten children whose father-less lives
corrupted them before they could count to ten.

I see the blues on black women’s faces
under the foundation of their eyelids.

I can sense the pain, the frustration, the failures.

I can hear the moans, the growls, the screams.

I don’t have enough tissue for these tears.
I don’t know if one box is enough.
Or, if I should even bother.

Because, I have learned that crying
Is a form of release. That crying helps to heal.

But, what a bout those tears
That don’t seem to stop?

The tears that speak out loud?

Tears that ask for help?

Black women cry purple tears
in a non-peaceful world
Where people make nasty comments
about her upbringing, her hair, her body,
her children, her house.

I have only two shoulders,
two ears,
And not a lot of time to listen.

Those tears burn. They burn. Burn. Burn.

(c) Christopher Donshale Sims 2007