Edification of Black by Micaela Carter (primary phonics .txt) 📕

Painting pictures of this background...

Colors of emotions transfer onto me

Brick upon brick built up into the heavens

High windows with dinged paint

The smell of the sick permeates the air

And the people within this fortress hug it to themselves

As if their very existence depends upon that fume

I see the masks and the scrubs

The saline bags, blood bags and morphine laced ones

I sit in this wake...a blood transfusion my downfall


Her story begins where mine ends

Tender kicks against my rib cage

Lets me know she strives

She grows...healthy

Beating heart...strong

In this place where sickiness thrives

Where death is an imprint in my veins

And Dr. Allison L. McCoy revived me

She said...she gave me back life

So that I could give life...she said

It's the middle of 1983; October...tainted blood pumps through me


I rock with my little one in the chair beside the window

Touching my plump belly and humming a song

That has no words just a strum of chords that plays in my head

As I look up at the sky it parts giving way to rain

And I remember the night before when I sat looking up

Up into the night...as God cleansed the earth
I rewind time in my mind...

And I can see it so clearly as if I was still there...

Colors of emotions transfer onto me


I sat on a bench in Central Park leaning back into the wood

With trembling hands reaching up toward the sky

Trying to reach past the clouds and soar into the heavens

The night opened up to give way to that precious saltiness

And it scored my face as if stoning me...pelting me

And I continued to sit arms spread wide, head up and mouth open

I closed my eyes and I could feel every touch, smell every scent

And me...I was everywhere in the air

He had given me this gift...this creation

To give the world and in return He cleansed me of all my filth

Or so I assumed...


I was stabbed...lights flashing...ambulance

Red...blue...sirens sounding

Specks of black; uniforms; golden badges, cops...a flash light

The chink and click of hand cuffs

"Freeze" I heard someone fall to the cement

And I felt no other feeling but cold

I felt cold all over like it lived inside my very being

Welcome to my cement jungle...

"Save her" I whispered as repeated pumps were done on my chest

The rain covered me like a warm blanket

And the night sang me into a slumber

I closed my eyes...


Then I awoke...renewed and regenerated

With a strength I never felt

To the buzzing and hums of the machines

Attached to my chest and stomach...my stomach?

An IV placed in my arm and a bag hanging from a steel pole

Full of a clear liquid I could not quite identify

With a name on it that was still too blurred for me to see

The lights grew brighter in the room making me squint

A light is flashed into my eyes...my pupils dilate

The pen light is piercing, tears gleam in my eyes

"Miss Harvard can you hear me? Blink your eyes if you can"

I blinked once...then twice...and I felt my chest cave in

"Miss Harvard stay with me. It's just me touching the stitches"

Her voice sounds melodic like some foreign instrument

She is singing to me and I feel the weight lifted

Or is it her voice that strums inside my head like a song

"Breathe Miss Harvard. Take your time. Easy. Easy"

I felt cold all over like it lived inside my very being


I hear her rapid jingles as she shifts through her pockets

I hear change clanking between her fingers

I feel her watching me as if I am being summed up

I wonder what she sees...

She takes in a deep breath...I feel the bad news coming

My lips peel apart, "My baby"

"Miss Harvard, your child is fine."

And a shaky breath escapes her

"Marie, may I call you Marie?" I blink twice, "Okay good."

I hear bells ringing in my head

"I don't know how to tell you this...I will leave you with this recording and let you make your draw your own conclusion..."

I hear a door open in the distance and then a tape recorder begins

I close my eyes and listen


A voice starts tentatively...like a movie theatre

The narrator starts off in a solemn voice

March 4.

Scientists still not know how AIDS is transmitted "Recently "11 cases of unexplained, life-threatening opportunistic infections and cellular immune deficiency have been diagnosed in patients with hemophilia. Available data suggest that the severe disorder of immune regulation underlying AIDS is caused by a transmissible agent."
June.

California-Nevada Annual Conference sends a petition"Acquired Immuno Deficiency Syndrome (AIDS)" to the 1984 General Conference. Rocky Mountain Annual Conference adopts "Resolution on Health and Human Welfare (AIDS Epidemic)" More...
July 1.

The United Methodist Reporter publishes "Fatal Illness Strikes UM Layman: Church's Ministry Emphasizes 'Sacred Worth' of Homosexuals," by John A. Lovelace, who closes his article with the following reflection:
"I left Charles Bergner's hospital room impressed that he is doing his part to make public information available about AIDS...

I also felt that he is a young man looking realistically at his short life and how little may remain of it, aware that he has been stricken by a disease linked with a form of behaviour his church disapproves of. But, I felt, too, that Charles knows that the church, like God, has not withdrawn its compassion and knows that the healing grace of God is available to him no less than to any other person because he is, indeed, of sacred worth..."


I hear the tape continue to drone on but I can't hear it

I can't hear anything anymore except the rapid beeping

The beeping surrounds me and I can't breathe

I can't see...my senses are lit up light Christmas trees

Before the winter snow...

I feel the cold again and I reach up toward the heavens

He gave me this gift...this creation

To give the world and in return He cleansed me of all my filth

Or so I assumed...

I thrashed, screamed and tried to pull myself from the bed

I could not move; straps held me immobile

God...help me...

I'm dying


Painting pictures of this background...

Brick upon brick built up into the heavens

High windows with dinged paint

The smell of the sick permeates the air

And the people within this fortress hug it to themselves

As if their very existence depends upon that fume

I see the masks and the scrubs

The saline bags, blood bags and morphine laced ones

I sit in this wake...a blood transfusion my downfall


I hear my sweet ones heart beat upon the monitor

I feel her gentle kicks to my ribs

Feel her moving inside of me

Her story begins where mine ends

She is my claim to life and I refuse to give her up

To death...

Breathing in black is not an option

Colors of emotions transfer onto me

Beautiful paints...


I am HIV positive....

Publication Date: 03-17-2010

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