desert
pardon my thirst
for I am quite parched
I have been walking along
The endless space of tiny grains
And the sweat has been the only liquid
My walk has slowed, my patience has lessened
And I see a drop from you but it’s not close enough
So if I appear frustrated or too eager, it’s due to your unknowing tease
With the possibility of finally quenching my perennial thirst
Moonlight
I found you
in the back of the room.
You stood
still.
Like a stranger
with eyes fixed
on the spotlight.
You stared
at the many shades
of white,
golden in its
luminescent.
And I…
I stood
still.
Like a friend
with eyes fixed
on the moonlight.
Sidebar: I honestly didn't write this poem with an intention on aligning it with the film Moonlight. In fact, I was just writing because it flowed and that came out. Funny how much something can be engrained in you that it follows you wherever you may go creatively and literally.
Unconditioned Note
Ultimately I want you to be at peace
Peace is not perfect
So I would never expect you to be
Any imagined ideal in a childhood fantasy
Ultimately, I want you to be free
Free is not confined to fear
So I would never expect you to follow
Any insecure boundaries of tomorrow
Ultimately, I want you to be loved
Love is unconditional
So I would never expect you to embrace
Conditions based on what society creates
Ultimately, I want you to be
being is magnificent
so I would never expect you to be
anything else
A tale
A mother stands on a sidewalk talking
about how she landed
in the unfamiliar row houses of Philadelphia.
A summer story. 1990.
She was riding along a lonely
inappropriate road that only holds
certain shades to certain standards.
She made a wrong left turn and was in the right space.
That sticky sweaty sweetness of coco skin
makes a random bee excited
with bright eyes that she never saw before or
perhaps noticed before. So enthralled with this
typical object of pain, she follows its path to
corner stores, chalk coded games, water hoses as water coolers, music blaring messages of
pride in new sound systems, and five cullud boys drumming
that ball of loose baskets, dripping with excitement and tiredness.
Random passersby call her
by a nickname that she only heard on television. “Sista!” she exclaims
in her tale. Perhaps, they were drawn to her
wayward worries which were illustrated by her
engulfed eyes looking away from their faces, from their boom boxes, from their fist t-shirts
and dark shades many men wore to protect
from the sun, the stares of those who wanted their innate control, dried up tears of last night constant realization.
“They came to me,” she says
like the girl who finally got to go home
after going astray for days, “but
I had to say goodbye because my parents
promised Grandma’s pecan pie.”
Karma.
She is vilify by many.
She is called out her name by plenty.
However,
she exemplifies the universal truth
"Do onto others as you would have them do unto you."
Karma.
She is brave with bold audacity.
She can also be quiet with hidden reciprocity.
Honestly,
she upholds the standard
of integrity and responsibility.
Karma.
She is used to labels and laughs
because she knows why so many hate her.
Karma.
She is truly one fair woman.
we pack experiences and impressions
overload on bags of memories
we try to drag them along in moments
overload on bags of miseries
we forget to unpack when new times come
we try to bring up old news that is buried
digging sometimes for hours just to find
the feeling of the now that aligns
to make a case or make a plea or make a repeat of past
because we keep carrying old luggage hoping to make it last
however, wheels are falling off and the straps are breaking
perhaps now is the time to start thinking
drop the bags and leave them where they are
and walk easier throughout our journey near and far
step with a brand new stride
creating new rules to pack light
when things get too heavy,
begin to clean out all the stuff
that does not fit in our space now
so we can keep life light
one moment at a time
Written April 2014
