Poetry Today · Uncategorized

Grandma Saved Me


Her big round eyes are electric blue,

Bluer than the sky that hides

The storm within me.

Her voice is the reason why

I stand in the puddle, splashing

Around like a child,

A child without worry, without fear.

Her Strength has sustained me

Pulling things out of me,

Things I never knew

Existed.  She told me I was a leader once,

Once when people look beyond the dirt and the shame

Beyond the legs that straddles the street corners

At night, dressed in a shadow of someone else.

She told me I was beautiful once,

Once when hate and denial eats away at my heart.

But her great old eyes

Rimmed red and tired

Saw something in me

Something no one else could see.

I should have held on to her words

Softly spoken from wise lips

I should have believed her

But, believing was hard

My world, my life was hard.

Harder than the bullets that claimed my family, harder

Than the tears that have scared my face.

But her eyes, full of pride and hope

Turned a deeper shade, a magnetic blue

Like a storm they stirred my soul

Causing a change, a change powerful enough

To save me.


Nikki Moore© All rights reserved 2016

Poetry Today · Uncategorized

Are You Listening


The walls are soaked

Dripping out

The pain and prayer

Of a grieving heart

Laughter has died

My lips now quiver

In fear for the future

For my children, children

I pray for the light to stay on

In their hearts

For compassion to guide their hands

Maybe they will make the difference

Where we could not

Maybe they will bridge

The great divide

Maybe they will sealed the rip

That has ripped us apart

A holding of hands

One heart

One nation

One blood

One color

One God

I am still hopeful

Deep down in the silence

Beneath the darkness

A flame still burns

I’ve seen too much

I’ve bear too much

I’ve prayed too much

To give in now

I am painting a rainbow

Over my scars

I am washing the ugliness

From my tongue

I am speaking to the mountain

And the walls and the empty spaces

Receptive souls will hear

The broken heart will hear

Grieving families will hear

The children will hear

The confused and disillusion will hear

They will come

They will listen

For in our bellies

Rooted deep we have an innate

Desire to see change

To feel hopeful

So today,

Come as you are

Hear my voice

Let change begin with me

One voice

One word

Softly spoken

Are you listening?


Nikki Moore© All rights reserved 2016