text: Micaela Carter Edification of Black 
   
   
     
   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: March 17th 2010 https://www.bookrix.com/-mcarter621