Dead Mothers by K. Anahi Soul
There is a community webbed by grief and death
Of mothers of dead sons
Mothers that are connected through catastrophes
And yellow taped causalities
Mothers of dead sons who are dead themselves
But only their insides
Only their fragmented anatomies ache
Before the sounds of closed caskets
Only their hearts clogged with black smoke
Though it barely beats it
Chimes the sound of church bells and broken hymns
The flesh of their bullet-riddled baby boys joins them
The ones their arms can no longer cradle
The ones whose paths crossed police scanners
And dirty badge
Baby boys guilty of existing in blackness
I fortunately am not a part of this community
But I am forced to drown in their wounds
I eat at their dinner table
Their laughter is short-lived
Their worlds are smothered in cavities,
Threaded by tragedies
As I tiptoe my way gently through
The land of shattered sufferers
I breathe in metallic-blood air molecules,
Decomposing hearts, and broken parts
I breathe in-while they struggle to find their next breath
I breathe in
A community that I may be forced to join next
K. Anahi Soul
K. Anahi is the self-proclaimed "Ghetto's Poet".
Out of the inner-city of West Dayton, Ohio, her work highlights poignant political and social justice issues that plague a multitude of urban cities across America and articulates hope for marginalized groups. As her writing began as early as second grade, K. Anahi began to elevate her work from hobby to career following a family tragedy in 2008.
As a doctoral student studying Clinical Psychology at Adler University, K. Anahi enjoys writing pieces that incorporate her two passions of psycholgy and poetry. She currently lives in Chicago, IL with clinical interests in trauma, high-risk youth, grief and loss, self-esteem, gang violence, etc. These topics are often the backdrop for her artistry.