Poems by Diane Dawson

HURT ME

I am afraid. I am afraid.

I am afraid of him. I am afraid of her.

He tells me he loves me. She tells me she hates me.

He tells me it is for my own good. She doesn’t know how bad I want to choke her.

He took me to the hospital. She wants me to put her in the hospital.

He told the doctor I fell down the stairs. She told the police I hit her for no reason.

I went back to him. I went back to her.

He told me he would kill me the next time. She begged for me to hit her.

I pleaded for my life. I begged for her to stop pushing me.

I can’t breathe. I wish she would stop breathing.

Too late. I’ve lost my life. Too late. I’m doing life behind bars.

Diane Dawson

CIVILWAR

I was a slave for 30 years of my life. My master’s name was Cocaine. I was an innocent young woman when he took me into his big, strong, white arms. His embrace was warm and tight. He whispered to me that everything was gonna be alright. I served him and only him—he was my God. I was so confident and arrogant when he was with me— I was the best looking, the best dancer, the best lover you could ever have. I didn’t depend on him so much in the old days— he would usually show up on Friday nights. Then things started to get complicated. Every decision I made had to go through him. He made me think I wasn’t an addict when I really was. He made me spend almost every dollar I had on him— he was my pimp !!

He became very hostile when I didn’t have enough money. He made me sell my body, he made me dance naked in front of complete strangers, he made me have unprotected sex because I could not make a decision if he wasn’t inside of me. When the HIV virus came along, he became enraged. “It’s all your fault,” he said. He made me give blowjobs in rat-infested alleys. I even put guns in people’s mouths to get everything they had. He made me not want to look in the mirror, he made me not want to live at all.

Well, here I am 28 days later, my faith in the real God restored. Cocaine lost the war, and I got my freedom back. I’m making my way up north to start my life— in recovery.

Diane Dawson

ODE TO DANA

Wild child, running with the wind, never thinking she would run out of gas. She played the game like a true player, but the game played her in the end. She used to be a beauty queen, eyes looking like a China doll, small and petite, with a mouth full of pearly white teeth. She could read and write with the greatest of ease, but once she picked the pipe up, it was “negro, please.” She was one of ASC’s most colorful characters, who used to work for that hot lunch and Metro, on pantry day, forget about it—she never missed a beat. Looking at her was like looking at my future self if I didn’t stop smoking crack. She always put a smile on my face with her in-your-face humor. She sold everything she had for some crack, even her own soul—she lived and she died for it. I wish I could have saved her, but she was having none of that. Dana was her name and crack was her game— she went out in a blaze of glory. I miss you, my dear friend, hope to see you again. Rest in Peace. You deserve to rest after all the runs.

Diane Dawson

MY PRAYER

Lord, give me the strength to make it through this day and to get home safely.

I pray to understand all the mysteries of life. How do trees know when to bloom or when to shed their leaves? I yearn to understand why people are so damn rude—or should I take a look at myself? I would like to know where these words come from— is it you or is it me? I pray that I don’t hurt anybody today. I pray for my inner child, for she will always live inside of me. I yearn to understand HIV/AIDS— why it affects us all so differently. I pray for patience, I must learn to understand some of us are slower than others. I choose not to pray for peace until I find peace within myself. I pray for those who want to hurt me, for they know not what they do. I pray for a sign, to know when my journey will end, so I can complete my life’s work. I pray for Planet Earth, for how much more damage can she take from the human race?

I pray for tomorrow, hoping it will be there for me.

Diane Dawson