 |
| Harlem, NY (Photo credit Google Image) |
You know that feeling that you've met someone before, been somewhere before, and are connected to a stranger you have no reason to feel connected to other than it just feels right, like your paths crossed because that was part of the plan, and the way it's just supposed to be? Think about those that you know, and those that you used to know who are no longer in your life... they may be alive, but they are ghosts. Some are in them and still feel far away. Then, think about some of the places you've been that just feel like home, whether it's the first time or the tenth time you've been there. Today's poem is about this constant drifting of people in and out of our lives -- teaching us, envying us, loving us, and changing us. It is based loosely on the line I read in this headline about a woman who moved from Oakland, Ca. to Harlem, NY. -- because it felt like home.
Almost Indigo
Resting somewhere between blue and violet, there are days when it's hard to believe I'm part of the same rainbow
From India to Europe and back to Greece, I traveled the natural world without release
Why did I leave in the first place?
If I were her and she were me, would we believe the things we've seen, or would we be fools to go based on sight alone?
We are the color blue, with different tones
There's a letter on the fridge, I hung there before our stupid war
I never dreamed that would be how I'd learn cursive,
those times are no more
I hung on to that piece of paper like nothing before
This was when she became almost indigo, almost a ghost,
which are supposed to be white, but she taught me ghosts can wear any color, be anything
There is no set attire for those who seek to come and go
Harlem was like a secret, flushed, I'd wake to the memories of my dreams of this place
waiting for me by the bus, kissing him, and holding it
alleys and restaurants, drinks ordered and delivered in shiny blue-green glasses, heels under the table, coy,
almost indigo
Oakland held me as long as I'd let it, but
the key and lock and latch and safe rusted, needing to be abandoned like a dog with a full belly,
at least you've been fed, now go, now go
Almost indigo, I did my research by checking the stars and the constellations
I knew about Libras and Capricorns, and sensed when it was the right time to go
more grounded than you'd ever know... but God doesn't give just anyone Sagittarius Rising, and a song like mine
there is no way these wings are supposed to hover rather than fly
thank you
your letters meant everything to me, but I got so caught up in them that I thought I couldn't do it on my own
I had to learn that I could do it on my own
in Harlem, my home
the lady on the corner knew I had the gift, just like I knew she'd given birth to a son named Jeremiah
she wanted to run when I took her palm and started to trace the lines
she knew I knew
she knew
she knew she wasn't home
almost indigo, it was time for her to go...
No comments:
Post a Comment