To my National Writing Project Siblings—especially PLWP S.I.14,
it was like a dream
we wrote and we read until hands held
our hearts and our souls
filled with joy full of Simile’s smile
quite simply, I’ll always proclaim:
NWP is the write kind of Kin
Folks, our blood flows through ink though;
and, writefully so,
if some see us grouped sporadically together,
they may say we were strangers
even stranger,
if a stranger saw me hair locked in what some call dreads;
locked
in skin dark filled pigments invents endless possibilities
grabbing back past the first crater the Creator created
to cater to Indigoes and Blues and Jazz
infused with Rainbows of humanity- my Family
bright skinned like the light bends
within vibrant blends of aurora borealis,
such contrast collides coincidence that
can’t convince the clock to tick or tock ‘cause time
just wishes to be the watch…
for a second
to beckon the senses to swim in deepness
ocean deep are those moments
we wrote memories as needed as a summer’s
breeze
surfing
waves strong enough to wash away footprints in
the sand
providing new places where we can
stand and walk again amongst our
friends
felt feelings louder than a thunderous locomotive can whistle
its warning cry burdened by such heavy loads
We shared
joys and woes even though we didn't know each other from Adam,
who is written to be the first man to propagate this people train
People,
strain your eyes like some fix their gaze on space
constellations we pattern after animals with etymological care
now, make room to zoom in then focus your stare
as would a night sky searching to find THAT STAR knowing it's there
the One for which all evenings must boycott dusk and dawn
thus moving on to absolutely nothing
for even nature knows no next exists without lip syncing this
Gift:
our
\ˈēch
\ˈwərd
in·di·vid·u·al·ly
composed together, a symphonic bubonic blur that changes life
forcing nightmares to dream peaceably at least one reminiscent wrinkle in time
finally
listen
to the tonality expressed in each piece of our minds
as we freely give our never given
sentences
once erased in shame, fragmented and ended
now
replaced, renamed, rewritten and presented
Then it: the sporadic
would be less emphatic as one could discern
our differences don't divide us;
they unite us as we train
and if this choo choo broke down or could not go…
rather it’s the weather or whatever,
then we would take the bus together
‘cause that's just how we roll
or skip or walk with a dip in a hip
pure confidence knowing that,
We,
this writing Family, always has a choice
even in silence the pen is our voice