I TAKE THE STAGE

I take the stage, and I speak clearly.

Not softly, not sweetly—clearly.

No violin to soften my syllables, no drum to drown my diction,

just the raw weight of my voice—

heavy like the hands that built nations,

sharp like the tongues that tore them down.

*

I take the stage, and I see them shift in their seats.

They want rhythm,

They want melody,

They want the safety of a song—

a chorus to hum along,

a beat to nod their heads to.

They don’t want to sit in the silence between my words.

But I will not shrink into harmonies,

I will not be swallowed by the music.

I will not be a background singer in the chorus of my own existence.

*

I take the stage, and I say what needs to be said.

I say Black. I say woman. I say power.

I say rage, I say grief, I say

“Why do you only listen when I scream?”

I say “You call my voice too much,

but you built monuments on the backs of my ancestors

and called it civilization.”

*

I take the stage, and I do not waver.

Because I have been told to quiet down…

since birth.

To be soft, to be small,

to smooth the jagged edges of my truth

so that it fits neatly into their curated understanding of the world.

But I am done being a whisper in someone else’s story.

I am done being dragged along, being asked to quiet and be numb—

To sit and pay respects to another man’s glory.

*

I take the stage, and my words do not apologize for existing.

I do not need a melody to validate my pain.

I do not need a drum to remind you I have a heartbeat.

I could care less if you look at me with disdain.

I stand here, bare, unfiltered, unafraid.

Listen—

not to the music,

not to the echoes of your own expectations—

but listen.

Listen to me.

For I have come not with rage,

But to take this stage.

*

(The poet smiles and retreats, she bows to the audience. The end.)

*

Author’s note:

Often, we favour songs, singers, sweet tingling sounds over the art of spoken word, the art of someone just speaking the truth. And I feel like poetry needs to come back to existence, spoken word needs to come back to existence.

For so long, we have listened to songs that mask and mask and mask.

The unmasking is the poetry, the unmasking is the spoken word.

Sometimes, we need to take a step back and listen to the words that people are saying.

We don’t always need the stimulant of beats in our brains before we can listen.

This poem came to me because of how I feel people take spoken word—how they want to hear the voice if it’s mixed with melodies and whatever, but they don’t want to hear the raw plain voice!

Let’s embrace acapella more. Let’s embrace the spoken word—the raw truths being spoken out into the air. Let’s embrace listening more. Let’s take the stage!