Forget what it looks like to reach out to someone because of what Twitter or FB says. Forget what it looks like to reach out in a revolutionary way to form a bridge. Forget what it looks like to just be your common self.
I’m a messy Christian, the kind that’s mismatched
Flash danced, grooves scratched – too much vintage on blast
All five generations of us alive
in one small bleached, concrete room
filled with prayer beads and penance
alive with the death of things
Not one of us allowed by our full names
When the war is over and the ground tilled
a new bloom will make home in her spirit
Ma reminds me of struggle and strife
Take care of your own and to God the rest.
For voice, hope, strength
every poet weighed with
the power of the truth –
our very existence the resistance
It’s #FiveMinuteFriday at Kate Motaung’s place. The word prompt is MORE. I’m not a prose kind of person at 4:00 a.m.