It rained stars before steps, I stood in awe
and wondered if a woman can walk
on the moon if shaped with right angles
when wrong has been done.
Would foot of another offer to help
or suppress the Soul
in limbo through life or maybe
just maybe the other would walk
and keep company.
Is that a possibility or plea before eyes
that can look down on Dreams,
though not written in stone, yet I stood
in awe at the mere thought.
I became brave, opened books
as songbird flew, it sung for me.
Recalled how another achieved success
through Faith, felt it touch her cocoa skin.
Did not complain of the cold nor warmth
but embraced the feeling of alive.
She could hear the moans, the growls
from city streets and country roads.
It did not cease her from following
the feathers left behind by songbird
until the last feather fell
before her battered feet cried out.
They shed highlights of hell and back.
They choked on childhood visions,
adult atrocities still active in present time.
Children who sleep, wake and live in hunger
also those abused by sworn protectors, pretenders.
Mistreated elderly, mishandled by own kin
also by tainted shells who lost their loving touch.
She could hear sobs, songs in tears
from the fallen that could not hang on, they let go
after fingers grew tired of being tired.
Her inner voice captured the croons,
began to write about their world
and share the heroism with our world;
refused to separate skin by color.
Voice willingly worked to reunite the gaps,
invited battered Souls to break bread
with humility at her dinner table;
made sure they left with love of self
[ feathered Gift ]
spoken from within her Spirit.
Gold trophy winner
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