A blank page in this blank age
ask my Mother if she’d still miraculously rescue me
I know the last time was life-and-death.
but, truly, I don’t know how this works
A blank page in this blank age
I can’t complain that I’m alone
each time I stare at this blank page
their spirits start to resurrect in me.
when I walk the lonely path
following no directions, I feel their pull
A blank page in this blank age
my Mother is a million souls and spirits
watching my every step. So, I’m sorry, Mom
for the things you’ve seen in me
for the times I’ve neglected you
A blank page in this blank age
sometimes, I ask where these words are going.
black ink trailing to the bottom; a period
their support is white space—whiteness.
how can you articulate so fluently?
style so italic-iconic; impact so bold
you stand out on this white processor
until they want you to stand out-side.
A blank page in this blank age
it’s pointless what I want to accomplish.
my scroll of life is still long and wide,
and my Ancestors have Negro Spirituals to write.
More Hymns? More hymns.
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