was the crown of her head--
escaping safe and warm,
embracing cold and hard;
Silent, until compelled
by hand placed forcefully on bum'
to yell.
witnessed her inhale cold and hard--
pained for her,
wept with her,
scared for her,
caught between emotions
of her arrival and her departure.
Tears stream down my face
causing permanent tracks;
footprints if you will
of purging memories,
like rusted shackles in Williamsburg
and tattered confederate flags--
the memorial on Sweet Auburn Ave
where Martin birthed his dream--
like Flip on 163rd,
stuck there since 1982
with tracks etched in his face
and in his arms
from footprints of his own--
like empty crack vials
under monkey bars where I used to play--
like thick budda' haze taken into lungs
to make memories go away;
lacking courage to do life on life's terms;
melt down the shackles,
burn the flags,
dream like Martin did
until I heard her yell--
the sound vibrating my every cell;
leaving them flooded with light
and shoulders heavy
with debt, owed to our ancestors--
heart buoyant,
floating somewhere in the innocence of her eyes.
And as she looked through me,
helping me to see my strength,
somewhere behind me
where I'd left it long ago.
She smiled at me
evaporating my tears--
i kissed her brand new cheek
and knew instantly
that my Angel had arrived.
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