Wells
A hip hop musical chronicling the life and times of journalist, teacher and civil rights advocate
Ida B. Wells-Barnett
Black and Brown
A television/web series set in the mid 19th century New Orleans and Upstate New York, celebrating the successes and hardships of Free People of Color and the negotiation of their of freedom in the midst of slavery.
What I'm Working On Now...
Short Films
Lucca and Diane
A film about friendship, loyalty, honor and how traumatic experiences can impact our lives.
https://filmfreeway.com/LuccaandDianne
Ekaete's Poetry
Tattooed Garden
(Copyright 2023. All rights reserved)
Running though roses
Salmon-colored summer suit
Morphs into play clothes
A world to explore
Avoiding every thorn
While white pleather loafers
Make a home for kicked up pebbles
Giggling
He glances at me
But Keeps running
as his father
Watches
Blue suit and
Stern words
“Hey! Too far! Can I see you over there?”
He asks the boy who
Laughs more
Unphased
There’s never anything
To fear
Before
When dad in blue
Was young
He too ran
Free
On back water hills
That made love at dusk
To the sun-starved horizon
Smoking cat tails and
Counting every star
Now the life on his face
the drink in his hand
Almost makes him forget
What it was to have
No fear
The salmon-suited boy he loves
Ties him back to here
To this moment
Tethered
Like a security tag
The ink will ruin
If the remembering stops
Little boy glances my way
His hair in a sleek mullet
His face full of mischief
“Hi” he says to me
My heart warms
“hi” I smile
There’s never anything
To fear
Dad takes a sip
Relieved
As a beautiful woman appears
platform shoes,
Flowy pants
Sweet voice
Hair smoothed back
A tattooed garden
making swatches and swirls
On the side of her slim neck
Fully inked sleeves
Tatted fingers and hands
her body is her canvas
An everyday artist
This mother
Who birthed a sweet life
All Running and giggles
And Mischief with no fear
When she calls little boy’s name
He poses obediently
As her phone captures him
One space in time
Now forever gone
Turning to leave she beckons
The boy softens
Shuffling, quietly
He Kicks tiny rocks in pursuit
There’s never anything
To fear
Following her
Dad following him
Up
This present path
©Ekaete Bailey 2023. All Rights Reserved.
Hope
(Copyright 2016. All rights reserved)
I extend my hand
to the God of Hope
He throws me a rope
and I
pull.
Not yet sure if I can handle His weight
But I'm ready
I'm ready
So ready
Too ready
falling prostrate
at his bronzed feet
Not worried if my nose or chin will spite my face
It all belongs to Him anyway
So
Fresh
Matter of fact I am going to fall backward
in symbolic reverence to the act that saved my life
not looking for a human
to catch me...
Not looking for a hero to bless me
There’s only one who knows me,
truly
The hairs on my head are numbered by Him
uniquely
Every flaw and every small bit of perfection
I’m
all
in
His and His alone
So, Lord, throw me another rope
I’m steady scaling this Jerusalem wall
Rock climbing, East Berlin style
And the other side
represents much more freedom than the west
More than we can ever find in this life.
And while you’re at it Lord,
Throw me some more,
Promise I’ll split mine
Splice the vine
Reproduce the light
reach the starving and the dying
The punished and the punishers
Offer them to grab tight
Certain that you alone
can handle every flickering light
God of Hope
Your mercy’s never biased
To the sinner
To the saint
To the victim
To the perpetrator
Somehow, someway
You love us all the same
Your desire for all to be saved
I do hope and pray
That my voice reaches your ear in sweet melodic phrases
The worship of sages
Foretold for an audience of one
Father, Holy Spirit, and Son.
This voice you gave me has a purpose
Fire dripping from these verses
I feel like Jeremiah
Poetic hearers are like wood
And your setting souls on fire
There’s nothing you can’t do
There’s nothing to hard for you–
God of Hope
I Extend my hands
No other help
Do I know
No other way
Can I go
No other love
Can I show
God of Hope
You’ve shown me
Your glory
Now I
Can never
Let go
©Ekaete Bailey 2016. All Rights Reserved.
Haiku For Fall
Is there a man who
Will both laugh with me and cry?
Autumn comes softly
©Ekaete Bailey 2023. All Rights Reserved.
