Niema Jordan

In an ideal world
It’s either black or white
In my world
I push this gray
‘Til it turns me blue
Never wanting to commit too soon
I wait for true colors to become visible

So let this serve as a warning:
I can’t make you any promises
I can only speak my truth
I’m not looking
Too busy living
I’ve abandoned having an end goal
And would rather enjoy the process

I am still finding myself
Can’t promise you
That the Neems you know now
Will be the me you wake-up to
Can’t tell you that I won’t catch feelings
Or guarantee they won’t fade as suddenly as they came

It’s likely that I’ll only stick around
As long as I don’t feel stuck
Give you everything
Until you start expecting it
Cuz I’m not a fan of being taken for granted
And requirements cause warm to run cold
No real explanation
Just does

I’m only certain that
I’ll be as honest as you allow me to be
Give what you’re willing to accept
And take what you offer

I’ll meet you where you are
But if I’m ready to go
I won’t force you to leave
Chalk it up to timing and
Progress to something more my pace

No promises
No pressure
What will be will be 

Sometimes the concrete feels better than grass

Strength, heat, and determination

Unwavering even when stepped on

Always there, no matter the season

Something more inspiring about the flowers that

Grow where they shouldn’t

Sun shining where it shouldn’t

Water existing among the presumed dry and destitute

A more admirable strength in baby mamas that survive

Than scholars that were given the hand me downs of success

Hard knock sometimes more valuable than ivory towers

Because some lessons have meaning

Beyond rhetoric and theory

 

A level of nostalgia

Gives way to romanticizing street lives

Comfort gets mistaken for

A sign of the way things should be

And it seems easier just to go back to the way things were

The way your real friends still are

A place void of judgment

Or dumb conversations about things of no consequence

Where creativity is seen for what it is

And not looked down on as an example of the unrefined

 

It’s hard not going back

Aspirations to grow

Conflict with fears of forgetting

A mistake worse than selling out

Because the latter is a conscious action

A foot in each world

Isn’t as easy as it seems

Some lines are thin

But these

These are invisible

 

And this is what lies in the balance

When diplomas that are rarely granted

Lead to degrees that are seldom acquired

And breed identity crisis while

Have nots become haves

Without power to pull others up

Academic year brings friends with expensive habits

And notable reputations

Vacations home take us back to blocks where

The term is a pseudonym for jail time

 

Searching for words

But can’t pin point the feeling I’m trying to describe

Thus Letters jumble together

Like my thoughts

Neither her nor there

And I try to make them coherent

 

This is my process

Journey towards self discovering

While I front like I have it all figured out

Can’t write for stage now

Can’t think about winning fans

I’m trying to touch sanity

Writing my life and designing my path

I have to do this

 

Poems reveal what I think about myself

Insecurities splatter on paper

Confidence hides between the lines

This is me trying to figure something out

My reflection on page

 

In some ways my words betray me

When I pretended not to care

They told him I was in love

When I said I was complete

They said I was missing a father

Me and my words

We have this history

Betrayed not only in what is written

But by what I haven’t been able to write

 

My life lays

And sometimes attempts to lie on these lines

But the truth always comes out

 

I need this

Can’t forsake it

Can’t abandon my words

In search of degrees and careers

Can’t put them to the side to report the dreams of someone else

Can’t forget them in the pursuit of the dream that was never mine to have

Can’t lose my words

Because then I’ll lose myself