How to Build a Country for Black Girl(s)

©Messiah Cristine

A play/

song/daily practice

mantra

prayer

and meditation

ALL THE LANDS IN THE BODY DRUM:

Dark, dark, dark, dark, dark, dark

Dark, dark,

Dark, dark, dark dark,

BANG.

When you were made, there was so much pullin.

When you were made/ there was lots of pulling,

I mean there was force—

/Extorted force, and then the threading

And then there was a stitching/And then the crying/ there was something large, and fierce, crying/ it did not

say this though, it did not say this tho, from across the womb,

The placement of hurricane wind, and—

When you were made—

You were seamed, possibly

The old waters from the past

lives,

The bones

that calcified salted, grounding

— you are a product of prayer

The waxed intercession

of blackened tongue,

I told the thing

That made you, to self design /To explore the back spine

of an owl, to fit the aching wisdom

of the lonely morning moon, to catch

the waking, of the lodge dove

At the back of the lover’s throat,

(the thing was waiting for a kiss)

The thing that made you

(A body—

An orbed, thinged

With reckonings )

When you were made

I told the hurricanes to stretch the eye,

to sugar the heavenly bag of looking

Through the other, to give

you every vault of heaven

And then i

Placed you in the well

for the opening

For all the seraphics stars ,

Coupled—

(naming their own name)

When you were made

How there was so much pulling

contradiction

Heaving the ghost from air

the sky from sea

All the disruption,

When you were made there was

truly disruption, the only listening ear, combing out the sequins

Clotted, bloodied and writhing with silvers

When you were made—

There was a loud, loud—

BANG

(Dialogue between you and that feeling that won’t leave)

Form A

(Leaving from Yourself)

Are you leaving?

Yes.

You’re....

Yes.

Where are you going?

Somewhere. I feel like i gotta go somewhere. I gotta.

Is it that—

Yes, it’s that again.

And it’s heavy?

Really heavy.

Where is......where?

......What do you mean?

Where are you going?

......

......Like, where is that place?

...Yes, Where do you want to go? What will it look like? How big is it? Is it safe?

.......

Too many questions?

(You nod).........

Mkay, mkay. I want to......be here for you. When you get back, i guess.

I know.

I’m here to listen.

I know that.

But you still...wanna go?

I do.

Do you have to?

....I think so....

Am I not enough?

I’m your body....

Right. You are...

I am somebody.

Right.....

So say it.

No.

You can just say it?

i won’t believe it. There are a lot of things I can just “say”.

But that...should be enough.

I could have all the language in the world and still not know how to spell..........

Damn......... Facts.
Well. Step out, then.
Take the skin off,
peel it slowly,
make sure you get every inch,
start from the skin on your teeth,
start from the baseline of the spine,
un zip...that and i mean get get every fucking inch,
and take your time, and don’t be gentle, have fun!
Everyone is watching, it won’t be as hard as you think.... you’ve done it before over the years,
probably aint’ even much left of that skin, you got a couple of inches of yo forehead gone
already, all the skin from the heart been eaten up
by that one, who, what, when and where, and how
and it don’t matter, because they took a piece of skin with them, so hurry up, step out of it,
wring it up, it ain’t yours no more if you dont feel comfortable in it, it don’t belong to you, it
belongs to whoever touched it, it belongs to those who told you you were stupid, who told you,
you didn’t deserve to be seen and it belongs to your mothers mouth
it belongs to her mouth, and his mouth,
and your aunties mouth, and the lord’s mouth
it don’t belong to you!
what is you? Who is you?
Who are you?
What are you?
Who are you?
Stop guessing and gon on ahead and just take the skin of baby, it wasnt meant for you
Go on ahead
It ain’t yours anymore
Step out of it,
You raw and open now,
Look at all those openings
Now...
Now...
Now...

(An interlude)

Someone left me for dead on the side of the road, and every type of thing had picked over my body. I saw birds and lions, and wolves, and shit even ugly old women came over and chewed on my body i saw teeeveeeeees, taking bites, i felt the sun taking a bite, everybody was eaten and feastin with my wide open self, rotten in the sun, stinking, limp, and all the bodies from the sacks of my selfhood just lying down there like i had asked to be this staged picture, some people had asked where i come from or, asked how i had gotten there, and i told them that there were so many makings that were to blame. All the making of his needs, or her needs or their needs, those needs, my needs had been rectified a long time ago, but nobody ain’t see that, so day by day when all those things came by i just laid there, my two eyes traveling across different mouths that had decided to pick—

 



Messiah Cristine (she/her) is a poet/playwright and teacher from Miami, Florida. She graduated from Sarah Lawrence College with a degree in Liberal Arts. Her poetry work can be seen in WeTheTenderHearted, and Wussy Magazine. Her plays have been workshopped at the Echo Theatre, and The Kennedy Center.