I dont think she had any idea
of how she had moved through time
from ancient sands before Nubia when
the Nile was still young, and verdant Sahara
brought beneath Sun a tribute of myriad life.
Her broad magnificent face became images
graven upon symbols of wealth... and power
flowed from the heart of Africa in humanity
words, rhythm and art... mahogony trunks of tomorrows
like seeds spread upon a wider world.
I dont think she had any idea...
how the rise and fall of dynasty became
the flower of an age, and how the age
came to sudden crossing with an era of ruthless greed
suddenly seen as empty, lands across green seas
gold and burning need to feed
dark blood to fishes and adorn new shores
with the want for more, more and more.
I don't think she had any idea
how her song filled still air over prisons upon rolling waters
with an eternal beauty and longing she became the bond and sinew
of freedom. But oh,... how the slave woman
became the bride of the master
and the mother of a slave child; and how
her courage grew as a tree planted beside the waters,
never to be moved
but to recreate and replenish and confound evils of the world,
I don't think she had any idea.
How the stroke of freedom came unto her prayers
and her prayers became the generations from then to now
clung to her hems of liberty, heft upon her love song of life
nourished by her soul of wisdom;
and to now in a splendid day...
I pass her on city street, and she is the 'geechee' woman
voodoo and drum the South and memories of hurt
the north and renascent freedom, pull of anonymous throngs
and she tells me... "don't split the pole"
and walks backward to undo the curse
for she is still my mother and my sweet aunt
and she loves me before she knows my name.
I don't think she has any idea...how much I love her.
Honorable mention
Adding your comment:
...thank you for your thoughts...PK 
