Momma's Burden
We are this far under
In plunder of the night,
With dark brooding restlessness
Since entering the fight.
It is for this I wrestle
I hover - I groan
To open Heaven's best
And remove the stones...
On God's highway
Where women and Jews,
Black men and babes awomb
Can find rightful plenitude.
Who is this I wonder
That moans beneath my belt,
And cries out for life
With God-inbredded wealth?
Over these I stand
I cover and protect...
Incubating vision
Of the ones now left.
Madness still is baking
In pockets of oppressed gloom,
Since mother's milk goes unaffirmed
As God's newborn soup.
Some say, "We're at sixes and sevens!"
Yet the times cry out for "eights".
But the world continues spinning
In a cosmic milky-wait.
Grey Tears
Have you ever wept grey tears?
tears so old...even the fluid that carries their meaning
has grown dull by the long awaited
descent...
Dusty passageways
cleaned not -
And this, for the wanting of tears to clean them.
But sometimes the life within pushes up
causing our eyes' passage to release its'
long held pain...
Tears will not hurt your feelings
they cannot!
for their created purpose being far purer
than our deceitful hearts.
Then why do we fear them so?
Cause them to wait so long in their birthing?
I tell you friend...they are friends
Gentlemanly connectors to life below the surface
Colors Of His Face
Standing alone on pebbled carpets grey
No longer a child
Life was asking, "Why this way?"
Bleeding now from sorrows muddy past
the watching world
Bore no answers for this lass.
On this sad day my mourning dove sang,
Should I stay awhile-
or give me away?
I to my daddy's bosom might fly
Seeking refuge
I his loving eye
But he no longer
rested here....
He was now on the winds of Heaven's cheer.
The "Aha" would arrive
when upon the Spirits hint I came...
To turn my white frame to black again.
If I but put on darkened face
this maid then too
Might embrace her whitened case.
My inner castle walls
once facing in...now facing out
the removal of life's "rejection shout"
This frame given by God
in humor and in glee
For I was both black and white on the inside you see.
It was the love of God that set me free at last.
For He who made me thus,
turned out ashen clay from brown dust.
Climbing now the hills pf grace
I discover once again
the colors of His face.