the words bubble in my mouth
rise and rise until they eventually burst!
they are the bubbles of blood that filled assata's chest 
as she lay on well worn new jersey turnpike and breathed...
shallowly...
spheres of anger inside me as i sat and read her story
as the words jumped from their sentences 
and burned themselves into my brain and made my eyes well with tears 
because i could do nothing
i couldn't sink myself into the pages
slip between the lines and change the story
tears because of how much has never really changed

the words want to burst forth
to explode
to tear down bricks of lies stacked miles high
and make me sad at the same time
those eyes staring back at me from the photo make my poetry useless
i want to fashion my words into chains
to loop across water and pull her into the safe haven 
of those who believe her story
to make her not have to hide 
because people are still hiding behind their lies
and stories
and hatred of what they do not see reflected in the mirror
i want to see her raise her fist in triumph 
on grainy black and white film and digital full color screens
she should be victorious
able to smile without having that smile monitored 
and analyzed by shadows lurking in the corners of her life

those bubbles crowd my mind and make me wonder...
if oceans still seperate her daughter from her embrace 
or if her arms still feel empty at night 
as she tosses and turns in her memories
wonder if she is close enough to wrap herself in the good tidings 
tossed from america's shores and far enough away 
to sidestep grenades lobbed at her feet
...feet that have been dancing in my dreams
drawing her into me
her story flowering in my mouth
blossoming into roses to cover the foul conditions 
that seemingly contained her for years...
upon years that should have been 
her winters/summers/springs and falls...
fall away
the chains must fall way
release themselves from her wrists
and let her be free...