this life

a syncopated symphony

illustrated in easy rhythms

played throughout an average day

the sound of rain

a wind that blows

that truest note sang

out at precisely the right time

it’s the feel of the pavement

beneath my feet and

the pleasant freshness of a lime

a moving psalm

a prayer request

everyday a supplication and

entreaty to give it my all

i leave the mat empty

bereft of illusion

my faith an illustration of

black girl realness in

actual time holding down

whats mine while whetting

the stone for what’s to come

rest i need but rest not

weary bones grown and push

out another mile and another

and another consideration

the foremothers upon

whose backs i rise

this life an exercise

in humility and

gratitude sublime

the sun sneaks through

i stand washed new by

prayers uttered centuries ago

may the daughters of

my daughters live free

may the daughters of

my daughters live free

may the daughters of

my daughters live free

in truth i am blessed

that daughter is

me