Wounded Healer

I couldn’t kill
my rage,
so I tried to kill
the parts of you
within me,
instead.

Just because I don’t
have your last name,
I’ve come to realize
we are still
one and the same.

I know that
I possess venom
that spills
from your
bloodline.

There is mania
inside of me,
and from it
I refuse to flee.

Let this pain,
this trauma,
consume me
and part my soul
like the
Red
Sea.

No matter how much
I’ve fasted and prayed
these demons
are here
to stay.

I am a wounded healer
and I know
I will be okay.

Darius Phelps is a PhD candidate at Teachers College, Columbia University. An educator, poet, spoken word artist, and activist, Darius writes poems about grief, liberation, emancipation, and reflection through the lens of a teacher of color, as well as experiencing Black boy joy.