From a posting on my Dorien Grey and Me blog (http://www.doriengreyandme.com)
*********************
It was a time of ritual,
a time of coffee and cookies
sandwiched between games of solitaire
and the evening news.
It was a time when he was free
to be who he no longer was,
a time to be young enough to dream
dreams which could still be fulfilled.
The space between each sip of coffee, each small bit of cookie,
could be filled with thoughts of friends no longer dead,
and memories of a bed
warmed with a body other than his own.
After the ritual, he returned to the world as it was.
He washed his coffee cup and returned it to the cupboard.
He closed the box of cookies and placed it on a high shelf
in hopes the cockroaches would not find it.
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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Be always safe,
Karen