It looks like the inside of machinery.
Fuming, working different emotions endlessly.
Never stopping, it turns these gears called emotions
…but all this machinery is now leaving.
Being blasted away and burning as it leaves the earth’s atmosphere.
The flame is made of all sorts of colors.
Yellow for my mellowness,
red for my anger,
blue for my curiosity,
orange for my danger.
All that’s left of my negative emotions lay in rubble.
Fear, of others watching me
…judging me on moves I make.
Hatred, the blood boiling feeling whenever a thought
that provokes anger crosses my mind.
Then I see a package, floating down on a parachute.
The box is bursting with all the emotions I never meant to send away.
Sense of family returned,
acceptance and love.
The best was beauty…
natural and glowing of utter flawlessness from inside.
~
Falmata, age 15, partipated in the 2012 Dr. Carver Gayton Youth Curator Program at the Northwest African American Museum. He and his fellow curators worked with writer Daemond Arrindell on poems based on the Northwest Gallery exhibition, “Xenobia Bailey: Aesthetics of Funk.”
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