the louderARTS Project

Kamilah Aisha Moon

Kamilah Aisha Moon is a native of Nashville, TN, currently living in Kansas City, MO. Her literary achievements include participating in the Hurston/Wright Foundation and the Voices of Our Nations Arts Foundation workshops, winning 1st place in poetry at the Agnes Scott Literary Festival in Decatur, GA(1997) and being a 2001 Paumanok Award Semi-Finalist. Her work has been featured in several publications including MOSAIC, Fyah.com, The Black Arts Quarterly, Phoenix, OBSIDIAN III, Bittersweet (The Women's Press, London, 1998), and Bum Rush The Page (Three Rivers Press, NYC, 2001).

She's performed at the Langston Hughes Centennial Symposium in Lawrence, KS, The Austin International Poetry Festival, The Writer's Place Riverfront Reading Series, Café Myth in Washington, D.C., Harlem Renaissance Poetry Reading at The Morris Museum and the Norman Hughes Gallery in Augusta, GA, The Nuyorican Poets Café and the a little bit louder series in NYC. After paying the rent by day as a writer for Hallmark Cards, Inc., she spends her time editing and promoting two manuscripts: Her Name Is Lakie, based on her sister's experiences living with Autism ,and Tread, collected poems from 1990-2001. Ms. Moon loves exploring various cultural experiences and needs music like oxygen. Consumed with poetry in all its forms, she is also branching out into essay writing and toying with the idea of writing a novel.

I'm among those who write to breathe, part of the living poets society. Writing down laughs, cries, moans, sighs both heavy and sweet. Sifting golden words out of the sands of our experiences. Making something useful or pretty, something to leave behind in case it's of value to someone else. To speak out, to speak to, to speak for those who cannot. To compose songs in our unique keys. To give and receive love, to acknowledge beauty and pain, to honor truth and earn liberation one stanza at a time. I'm one of many documenting the human parade.
• K.A.M.





Excerpt from For Carolyn

The miracle of her love
is how perfect it is despite the rising and falling of her lungs,
heartbeat and all.

As she grays
Every part of her comes into focus
Every facet of this diamond woman becomes clearer
The cut and carat of her life the standard
of how I will measure my own

As my hands look more and more like hers
I want to use them in praise
Use them to gather orchids and zinnias
to give her now
rather than bittersweet petals
sprinkled on mahogany

Her laugh was the first music I ever heard
a tune my heart will never forget
Before she hummed lullabies
She was a bright, determined girl
who lost herself in mountains of books
Digging for love like oil
when it should have been falling off trees like fruit
Yet she's taught me about love, language and
moving beyond struggle from the deepest of reserves
Reinventing her need
She gave us a sanctuary to grow and shine in
Standing over us with Dad,
we spent our 70s childhood playing in the warmth
beaming from the black suns that framed their faces
tanning us to the bone with affection
A sacred time that helps to take the chill off
the coldest of adult woman days

So tender and strong
Breaking cycles of sadness with her bare hands
She turned her early tears into holy water
christening her daughters goddesses of their own fate...



© Kamilah Aisha Moon



. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .