How did I get so lucky -
To spend another day
With open eyes,
With legs that motor me
To friendly faces,
Banquet tables,
To hidden places
Separate from dreams?
Where else would I go?
This presence
Presumed to be
Mending a hole in someone else’s pocket.
Am I the marble monolith
Filling in a lesser space
Than say, the moon?
Dare I brush up and against
Your supple skin,
Endure
Your cross-examination?
It is ego to think that I
Could cause such a stir.
Yet there is that chance,
That impetus,
To scan the sky,
To pick through pictures,
To gather seashells and feathers,
To make memories,
To imagine you and I
Entwined in space and time.
And what of this great eternal sleep?
I say,
Resting is for those who would rise again…
Embrace the day!
Check your email!
And don’t forget to breathe!
What I particularly like about this piece is the mass of its metaphoric appeal, e.g., "Your supple skin." Such an image cocooned in protection of word choice that allows skin to be limited in its scope only by an anemic imagination. The mirror effect of a "your cross examination," that reflection of self and all its oneness with the universe is apparent throughout. Good mind food here.
Still Living on my Feet is the follow up to Tichaona Chinyelu’s first book, In the Whirlwind, which was rooted in a sense of hard-hitting revolutionary black love. However, in this sophomore effort, Tichaona brings the revolutionary essence from deep
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The law doesn't prosecute memories.
Just facts. :)
Ron