I used to be
Wild
running barefoot over gravel,
galloping ponies, and bending
over to pick up shiny trinkets
And racoon's teeth.

These days I can still hike
mountains and climb trees.
Impromptu dance parties, and
jogging supermarket hallways
in an urgent rush.

But, most days
My hips ache like they are made of
old stone walls, my knees swell
sideways, and dainty ankles crack
in flats as if they were still strapped
to six inch heels.

Most days it hurts too much for brisk,
for swift, for haste.
Most days it hurts too much to roll out
of sheets and covers and let my soles
hit the floor. Rise.

The Devil no longer quakes at the sound of my foot prints, but revels
at the uneven drag of my limps.

The zig zag sway of crumbling hips and crunching cartilage. A ****** swagger subdued by a body
Too tired for its own hinges.

Most days.

The struggles I had to face is something she wont go through!
No! Never! Not while I live , and definitely not under my watch.
THE CRY OF AN AFRICAN MOTHER

My daughter is a lawyer in the making.
She's intelligent, a doctor figure.
THE HOPE OF AN AFRICAN FATHER

Study hard baby
You'll take care of your sibling someday
and build us a better home.
THE PRAYER OF AN AFRICAN PARENT
................................................................­.................................................................­.....................................
Your good intent overshadowed by your failures and inabilities.
Genuine goodwill expressed in a confusing web of past decisions
Your way out shackles me to a prison wall painted in your dreams and wishes

I open my eyes to two options,
the wall of desolation and
the gateway of disrespect and ungratefulness .

I'd love to stay in these chains
enjoy the discomfort of your comfort.
but i cant!
I have a life to live
a destiny to realize

I cant live your dream
all the night you had to cry at nature's unfair gift of failure
could have turned to smiles and pride.
With the weapon of childbirth
You were assured a sweet revenge on nature

but the truth is...
all you have is an opportunity to be you
I'd love to be the doctor you long for.
**** to be a lawyer just to satisfy your thirst

but....
What difference would it make
I get to be the doctor.... not you
I wear the wig ...... not you
You'd still be a slave to nature
and me, a prisoner to the horror of your past.

I cant live your dream
tho i dream of living the future you've planned for me,
all i wake up to is a pillow, a ***** sheet and REALITY!

I choose the gateway of disrespect
carrying along the tag of an ungrateful son
battling nature to the realization of my dreams
while staring at the Right to a wig and a stethoscope on the wall.

Hanging between those crafty wooden frame
is your key to vengeance
to me,
the crown of a wasted years chasing after your dream.

Sorry mom --- Sorry dad
I cant live your dream.

At the mercy of your smile
My flat jokes wile

Gentle waters smile
below, waves of currents rile

The hungry smiles
Joke knows not bile

Unburden my soul
bless my spirit with a smile.

She, is that flower unopened,
in quieter moments,
she washes him clean,
a theme behind secrets
unspoken,
not of ether, nor clay,
but of somewhere between.

He, with his pallid complexion,
loves nothing of Earth,
even less of the air,
for all that are given
direction,
are places or houses
that she cannot share...