I....I don't understand intimacy with you
The difficulty of letting your face search my insides makes me hold my breath and
Sometimes these inhalations fail to whisper to this heart why this is ,what it is,
when it is
Frustrated I exhale cathartic wonders
none vying
So that I can place a finger on you and say now I understand---
She collects dolls and figurines
relics for heart which at 74 remind her of that spring day when her youngest
daughter stopped by and told her mother she would die
and when she did
to remember her chocolate skin
in the charcoal pigmented statue of a Nubian princess.
The porcelain figure is as fragile as lives
she's seen extinguished in the
blinking of an eye.
Her mother in the hospital bed,
machines flashing filling the clinical colored room with electronic signals
alerting everyone that
life .... is fading into something else.
My aunt wailed when her sister died.
Running down the street
Soul screaming She's dead, She's dead, oh my god
my God, my God, why have you fucked me
It is moments like these in which her mother learned not to make souvenirs of her
vision
Instead her consciousness is invaded with memories of what was
& what she hoped would be
Hope.
A little seed, the color of mustard.
nurtured in each plot of soil formed in her belly
The list of instructions
Love, Love, Love
She cultivated each soul to stand strong like a tree to
raise its hands to the
sky like leaves of branches
and with the spirit of our breath
to itterate blessings and thanks to an unknown being
which yearned for the forest laden earth to feel its paralyzing embrace
and clap its hands
_______________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________
Yet fear became our lord,
first, when we believed we translated every syllable accurately,
second,when the culture of our hearts turned its back on grace
_________________________________________________
I want to be intimate with you
I want to commune with the greatness that paints
humming pastel sunrises, and makes noise on a still
urban street,
I long for songs of hope
ricocheting in humanities scull
in the stead of ambulances, jackhammers, and businessman's shrapnel.
I want to leave death to death and life I want to inhabit
I want to live in this moment, in this place with you,
I want to always remember that we are wonders exhaled into being
You have purpose,
I have purpose
Let's make our grandmothers proud.
Before the throne of gods
Make her smile
Smile
I want you to smile
I want God to smile.
because smiling is that thing we do,
when the wheel is spinning and there's no way of stopping it
and we're just holding on
holding on really tight to each other
and when we stop spinning
Maybe those tiny seeds fostered in our mothers wombs
will burst forth from our hearts
and cultivate a garden of translucent truth
but right now we've got each other.
So take your nails and dig them deep into the earth of my being
and hold on to me as I hold on to you.
The difficulty of letting your face search my insides makes me hold my breath and
Sometimes these inhalations fail to whisper to this heart why this is ,what it is,
when it is
Frustrated I exhale cathartic wonders
none vying
So that I can place a finger on you and say now I understand---
She collects dolls and figurines
relics for heart which at 74 remind her of that spring day when her youngest
daughter stopped by and told her mother she would die
and when she did
to remember her chocolate skin
in the charcoal pigmented statue of a Nubian princess.
The porcelain figure is as fragile as lives
she's seen extinguished in the
blinking of an eye.
Her mother in the hospital bed,
machines flashing filling the clinical colored room with electronic signals
alerting everyone that
life .... is fading into something else.
My aunt wailed when her sister died.
Running down the street
Soul screaming She's dead, She's dead, oh my god
my God, my God, why have you fucked me
It is moments like these in which her mother learned not to make souvenirs of her
vision
Instead her consciousness is invaded with memories of what was
& what she hoped would be
Hope.
A little seed, the color of mustard.
nurtured in each plot of soil formed in her belly
The list of instructions
Love, Love, Love
She cultivated each soul to stand strong like a tree to
raise its hands to the
sky like leaves of branches
and with the spirit of our breath
to itterate blessings and thanks to an unknown being
which yearned for the forest laden earth to feel its paralyzing embrace
and clap its hands
_______________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________
Yet fear became our lord,
first, when we believed we translated every syllable accurately,
second,when the culture of our hearts turned its back on grace
_________________________________________________
I want to be intimate with you
I want to commune with the greatness that paints
humming pastel sunrises, and makes noise on a still
urban street,
I long for songs of hope
ricocheting in humanities scull
in the stead of ambulances, jackhammers, and businessman's shrapnel.
I want to leave death to death and life I want to inhabit
I want to live in this moment, in this place with you,
I want to always remember that we are wonders exhaled into being
You have purpose,
I have purpose
Let's make our grandmothers proud.
Before the throne of gods
Make her smile
Smile
I want you to smile
I want God to smile.
because smiling is that thing we do,
when the wheel is spinning and there's no way of stopping it
and we're just holding on
holding on really tight to each other
and when we stop spinning
Maybe those tiny seeds fostered in our mothers wombs
will burst forth from our hearts
and cultivate a garden of translucent truth
but right now we've got each other.
So take your nails and dig them deep into the earth of my being
and hold on to me as I hold on to you.
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