*for a friend
(accepting/visting a child not sure whether he is the father finally saying
I love her regardless she is mine)
*bless you love and peace my brotha
Time after Time
You’ve appeared in my mind
Just a seed
Planted
Being grown as I
Unsure of what I was seeing
What I was knowing
You’ve appeared in my mind
Growing…..just a seed
The weeds be my ego, my male pride
Another thing stuck in my mind
Growing……and the rain came down
Today’s struggles…..and the rain came down
Young black boys dead and in jail
Young black girls bellies swells
….and the rain came down
….and the rain came down
Mothers’ and fathers’ not doing so well
……and the rain came down
So much confusion in life it-self
And you deal with the hands you were dealt
….and the rain came down down down
The weeds died
And you blossom on with much pride
In my eyes
Rene from this day regardless of how legacy plays
Nature says “your seed is growing, and she needs to be knowing”
And then the rain came down
And the love I have inside embellishes my male pride
….and I thank God for the rain
This is a beautifully compelling womanist interpretation of a masculine dilemma: to serve or not to serve as parent to a child who may or may not be one's own. Committing oneself to such a spiritual, emotional, and financial investment in the life of another is not an easy decision to make, especially when issues of inherited biological traits or disagreements with the co-parent may eventually come into play. It's an honor to salute both the poet who gave us this wonderfully humane write and the man who inspired it.
Aberjhani
Beautiful, Mitzi. We dealt with a situation like this in my family. I was proud of my brother for taking on responsibilities despite not being sure. The woman was playing a game and the truth came out, but that didn't change the loving motivations and dignity of my brother. His heart was in the right place. A touching penning, Mitzi. ~~Nordette
Let this coming of age story of a boy named Bean take you back to a simple time. Set in a small southern town in the 1960's, encircled by a river and gleaming white cotton fields.
It's almost Christmas. Lynn Basil is writing her last book about a secret entrance into the magical doll land of Sha Bebe that she loves so much. Bagannos have taken over the world! Lynn finally meets her dolls in real life. Can she write in a Secret
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Aberjhani
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Ron
Welcome back; I've missed you and your powerful words. Touches all of the right places and heals all of the wrong--thank you. Well done!
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla. :(
Love,
Eileen
Always a joy to read your work Mitzi
Felix
Tyrone