Poetry Archive


refreshment | Keishua Arthur | Raising Mothers
have you ever tried to write to save the world? it is a an impossible task, you know.

still,  you sit at a black desk facing the opposite of a wide-open window,

pouring words into slanted wounds and pulling teeth with tears.

some nights you drag your tired body along the edge of the earth

to lay it at the feet of your enemies. only to find their toes are squishy soft marshmallows

and their tongues lap your blood up with such reverence you

fall apart at your knees.

your words that you held dear and ready to dissolve the faces that stand before you

melt into your belly.

you are not sure of how to jump over the moon

or how long you will hold

the softness of your nemeses against your tongue’s hips

but you know the back of your mouth is hungry

for more than paper and mental gymnastics.

you want to feast in the void. you want your blood

to be more than appetizer at the end of the day.

you are tired of talking to your own shadows.

you crave skin, light and poems

that are simpler than the ones you’ve

been chasing.

you crave the words at tip of your foe’s soul.

you want to know what is underneath the shard of bones

surrounding your own heart.

you want to kiss that girl you left at the desk

and pull her to the edge with you.

you are full of all her sorrow,

singing into your own mouth

for refreshment.

Keishua Arthur  is a former corporate librarian and life-long scribbler living in the D.C. metro area. She is a lover of morning light, a visual storyteller, a word lover and tea addict. She can be found chasing after her toddler, trying not to fuss at her kooky cat, and writing really long posts on Instagram. Her passions include social justice, spiritual advocacy, literacy and body positivity. She can be found on online at The Lovely Quiet.

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