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 

 

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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.