How We Forget - Loyce Gayo

This spoken word you can find here

It is among the most powerful things I have heard lately.



We forgot we were worshipping beings
We forgot you black Jesus!
We forgot the King of Kings
We forgot crowns do nothing for kings
But put weight on their heads and a target on their backs
We forgot they tax our heads
And put weight on our backs

We forgot Sodom and Gomorrah were leveled by brimstone and divine judgment
But Mississippi is still standing

We forgot burning cities
We forgot cities are still burning

We forgot colors a’ seasonal
And that this skin will fade too

I forgot my skin
Or perhaps I just ran out of fucks to give

We forgot that some kids utopias is a roof that won’t whisper the night
To the sleeping bodies below
We forgot bodies sleep below
We forgot bodies’ float

Bodies hang

We forgot Barbeques postcards
Strange fruit
And hooded men

I forgot my rage
And the pulse it leaves underneath my tongue

I forgot my tongue
And how it used to fit so perfectly in my purse
Next to my womanly duties
I forgot my purse
And my high heeled stilts
I forgot balancing is no longer an act when you’re hiding behind imported hair
A downloaded smile
A voice trained to jump through hoops, or flames for your snaps and applause

You don’t get it

Shoot! You already forgot you woke up this morning
You forgot to close the faucet when you were scrubbing that pot, that plate, that spoon, or your left butt cheek or whatever.
But you remember how that song goes. Right?!
You remember how it went?

You remembered you wanted your Grand Chai tea Latte
With 3 pumps, skim milk, light water, no foam and served at 120 degrees
You remember how spiritual of an experience that was?

I forgot where I wrote this
I forgot if I was just ranting
Or if I’d forgotten to close the faucet when I was scrubbing that pot, that plate, that spoon, or my toungue, or whatever
But I remember how spiritual of an experience this is

I forgot my heart was a burning city
Shoot! You already forgot I forgot my tongue.
Remember?

We forgot that some kids walk past their utopias every morning
Suburban bricks standing tall in proclamation of what statistics say they will never truly attain
We forgot that some kids try so hard to forget tomorrow is even coming
We forgot that there were kids smiling
In Barbeque postcards
Next to strange fruit
And hooded men

Or perhaps we never had any fucks to give

You know sometimes I forget
How hard it is to remember

-How We Forget. By Loyce Gayo