do you remember me?

do you remember me?
before our hands were ripped from each other,
before i was forced to do things,
i only wanted to do to you,
to kiss,
to suck,
to lick,
to fuck,
do you remember me?
when i screamed out your name over an over and over and over and over until i realized you were too far away from my voice and couldn't hear my crying out for the war drums and the blood, for you to make them pay for what they did to us, the familiarity of your touch, and hope you don't forget how much i love you.
do you remember me?
i carried your child 9 months, hips widened, breasts grew large and tender as an abdomen grew heavy with our fruit. a child, a living piece of us, when finally born, drank only thrice from my breast when he was ripped from my arms, crying out for me, for you.
do you remember me?
when we were at last, freed from oppression only to find things weren't easily changed. as the same men who ruled us before had more cause to kill us then before and i searched for you, sought you out cried your name again only this time wasn't so much as a blood curdling scream but a yell, at the top of my lungs. hoping that now, now that we're free you could hear it.
do you remember me?
i moved north in search of a better life, and justice, and you, and happiness. found a son that looked so much like you i could have stopped breathing. he, looked, like, home. all hair that was like wool, and shoulders and back, small waist like you and fire. spirit, passion, voracity, vigor, strength, pride and pain. such immense pain lived inside of him and anger. i wept for him, and the boy he should have been, the mother he should have had the father he should have known, i cried your name when i saw him. not like the scream of before or the yell this was a cry from the heart of a woman who wanted to erase all hurt from a strong magnificent wounded boy/man.
do you remember me?
a changed woman, used to be a warrior's wife, now am a grandmother watching her children's children, get on buses to Mississippi, Georgia, the Carolina's, tennessee, arkansas, Louisiana, Kentucky, to fight, to be peaceful, to march, be hosed, to take bricks to the head to be beaten in the name of something we now call equality, or just basic human rights. i weep for them now because i realise they probably won't make it back, and so i cling to them with all the might my tired arms can muster and i say your name, because i wish you were here, wish i could hear your voice in my ears again to tell me things will be okay, tell THEM they'll be okay. i say your name again as if it alone will bring them comfort as they face angry crowds that hate them for their skin.
do you remember me?
i am old. i can't remember you like i used to. can't remember your smell or your voice like i used to, can't even remember home like i used to... i remember though the soft breeze that did nothing against the scorching heat. the smell of pounded yams my mother used to make, and wait... i remember the man i am dancing through faded memories with as my mind drifts, as it often does to you, except then, before we were stolen, to you a beautiful, dark prince in my eyes although you were just a farmer, you, my love were so much more to me, you were all hair that was like wool, and shoulders and back, small waist and fire. spirit, passion, voracity, vigor, strength, pride and love. for me. i long for you again and this time, your name comes off my lips in a whisper... searching time and space for a love long ago stolen, and now with my last ounce of strength, and courage and breath and life i ask...
DO YOU REMEMBER ME???