And here we are again
Living to repeat our stories
The only way to feel alive
suffering
our confirmation
We matter only to ourselves
to our notions
Are we in motion now?
To fight over oceans
that we think we own
What we own owns us
The debt we owe we run from
We pay our debt in lifetimes
On repeat
Black gold isn’t enough
Crypto isn’t enough
Spilt blood isn’t enough
To feed the belly of the beast
What a feast we have made for ourselves!
Only to starve and marvel
At the truth
Staring back at us
With ravenous teeth
© 2026 Najah Rasheedah Monroe. All rights reserved
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Cupditity
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It Follows
It Follows
Why do you run from me so?
can you not see there is nowhere else to go?
you shine your light so bright in the night
yet cannot yield yourself from delights
that come and go
to grow somewhere else
to be eaten in the dark
the song of the lark cannot reach you
and I will follow
I will follow you
always
© 2026 Najah Rasheedah Monroe. All rights reserved -
Her (Story) In Color
Her(Story) of Color
She hides her colors
To hide her warmth
Black lines etched out
Reservation
Over-stimulation with no where for the fire to go
Suppressed expression
Causes spontaneous combustion
Maybe it is time that she gives birth to a supernova?
Or a rainbow to change her essence, her aura
But in a book
A journal of portraits,
Of father and friend look back at her
But she is the story that she knows best
Hues of blues and greens
With curves and swirls to cool a
Flame untamed for too long
So glum and gloomy
These days and nights
But blossoms bloom anyway
With no soil yet to tether their roots
© 2026 Najah Rasheedah Monroe. All rights reserved. -
“Home-Ruler”
Written by Najah Rasheedah
Heavy is the crown, Original Pastel Drawing by Najah Rasheedah
Home-Ruler
The empire will fall
all toil and labor will seize
Lady Liberty cannot uphold her torch to
the darkness where the parasites
produce and feed
and feed and feed
a confused lot
divides the plot
the corn will shrivel
and cotton hands will bleed
and bleed and bleed
into the soil
The crown sits heavy upon His brow
skin and bones wither to dust
like rust in the wind
bullets with horns have no name
only claim to Vestial Virgins
who know naught
when the Day becomes the Night
and the Night becomes the Day
They will cry out
Come!
Save us!
And we
will tell them
…No.
© 2026 Najah Rasheedah Monroe. All rights reserved. -
No Whispers of Old Tales
Written by Najah Rasheedah
It is cold and undead here
no tales or handled trials
they came to gather souls here
to foot the measureless mile
“All Hark!”, the angels cry
as the demons watch and smirk
their claws stretched out and mouths agape
the edge of time is nigh
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The Untethering
Written by Najah Rasheedah
She untethers her tongue from the language she knew
so well
to form new shapes, new sounds
Lingua Franca from the days long gone
she will never belong
but she will know herself
A stranger in a strange land is
home to her
an idea-not for a lover or clout-
but an answer to a calling..
wanderlust is longing for her
hiraeth has found a home in her
she will know what turn to take
in her wake...
...she is unfolding...© Najah Raheedah Monroe. All rights reserved.
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The Year of A Soul’s Yearning
Spring 2025: The Servant
She felt oppressed. Boxed in by her own choosing. To obtain another degree of knowledge and ignore the degrees of wisdom gained? Springing ahead five steps and tumbling down hill without grace. All for one and all alone. Indentured to all, but herself- and herself is locked in a cell and in the cell grazing through the virtual portal of make-believe. Soul is foul with impatience, but knows that She will quake, crack, and break under pressure.She will listen to the true master that she must serve.
Summer 2025: The Seagull
A lover. A whirl-wind ,of sorts, in the Court of Hearts. Every neglect unraveled on the floor, like the cunning Cleopatra rolling from her rug towards her magnate. She believed him. She followed his footprints in the sand towards a cliff straight into the North Sea. He transformed, spread his grey-white wings, and took flight. She watched him fly away and his bird song did not reach her ears, but blended into the frenzy of the cries in the sky. He did not look back for her and she did not call out to him. Her raw-heart burning blue, she fell silently into the cold arms of his ocean…
Autumn 2025: Jackal Red
A jackal howls in ecstacy. Earthly pleasures tie and bind her in red. She did not know that her plan was rehearsed and cursed to serve the silent watchers. Messages of urgency fall on deaf ears and a death of She is near. The lacy mask she wore to all the balls; enthralling and enticing the ravenous beasts once more. So thrilling and willing to play the game with nameless faces, no traces of the places they’ve been; just smiles and trials with judges that hold grudges who demand all of her will. she kneels before the court and offers her neck freely, as she grins softly, revealing sharp jagged teeth.
Winter 2025: The Initiate
She is worn
mending torn pieces of her flesh together again
Tara’s green crown aglow with secret gardens unfolding,
full of herbs to keep away the chill of winter’s breath
to clarify the fray of yester-year’s form
Green mother calms her
showers her with verdant arms of compassion
and patience
a crown, she wears, of mint, rosemary, and pride
Green mother claims her
all doubts and woes
for she knows
she grows
her roots deep into her purpose
written by Najah Rasheedah
-
Cupditity
-
It Follows
-
Her (Story) In Color
-
“Home-Ruler”
-
No Whispers of Old Tales
-
The Untethering
-
The Year of A Soul’s Yearning
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