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The snow has just begun to fall
thick enough to leave footprints –
My footprints –
first to mark this snow.
From A where I began
to B where I finished
Mine were the first footprints
to be added by others.

The first love sonnet was written when
a lover at A saw the one
she loved at B
and wrote a poem or a haiku or
some really forgettable prose
and a family was born.

Someone else at A
saw someone hungry at B
and brought a sandwich
made a place at the table
opened a restaurant
or a food bank
and a community was born.

Others at A saw a people
oppressed at B.
So they crossed over to stand with them
and brought their poetry, their food,
their voices and
their solidarity.

New sonnets were written.
New lovers embraced
New resources were unearthed
New creativity inspired
And a movement was born.

When A is where we are
and B is where we could be
where the homeless are housed
and the hungry are fed –
The bridge getting us there,

inspiring sonnets
and families
and meals
and wide tables
and communities
and solidarity
and movements,
and encountering
resistance,

Is Love.

Two Persian Greyhounds gently scrape their paws backward along the sidewalk. One, then the other. It’s a familiar maneuver, athletic, intimidating even. These animals aren’t your average Sunday schmoozers. Oh no, these guys are winners, and boy, do they look fast just standing there. I’ve seen this kind of thing before, the slow scrape-back, while watching the Olympics on TV a few summers ago. Sprinters preparing to race, feeling the earth below, reminding themselves what their feet can do. The master of these creatures waits nearby, wearing an arrogant bright orange vest. She stands proudly, her pale knuckles tightly clenched around a pair of leashes. “I’m in charge here,” she seems to be saying. But all it would take is some yapping chihuahua in the distance or a measly dollop of spilled pizza sauce hitting the street corner, and these hounds would be gone, a trail of orange and red following closely behind. They’ve been preparing to hunt all afternoon, you see, and they’d kill to go someplace quick.

I remember
my mother’s skin
as she aged,
so delicate and soft,
like stroking clouds
or the down
on a new-born baby’s head;
a touch of Heaven as she
neared her entrance into that
august Palace above,
a reminder that soon she
would be far beyond my touch.
Far beyond my presence.

Now as I stroke the underside
of my own arm
and feel that same softness,
that same delicacy,
I wonder how
I got to this place
of endings,
my own body slipping
down the road of no return,
never enquiring if my spirit
wants to accompany it.

Greedy in its desire
to follow its own path,
my body bows to years that
my conscious mind discounts—
uncaring of the years yet to come,
the things still to accomplish—
pulling me where
I do not want to go,
where I cannot imagine
myself venturing,
not for decades to come.

If ever.

How strange
and somehow fitting
that both the beginning
and the ending
encapsulate themselves
in delicate softness,
when death—
unlike the space in between—
is so harsh,
so heart-stoppingly feared,
so final.

Do we simply come from
the softness of nothing
to slip into
the wonder and bustle of life,
then vanish back into the
nothing of softness?
I do not want
to be beyond the touch,
beyond the present.

And still my skin softens.
It softens.

They walk down the beach with their eye to their toe,

They craze down the beach, they really move slow.

Looking for remains from the creature of fright,

They’re out on the beach, from morning to night.

Huntin’ and ‘a searchin’ just to find what they seek:

They’re the shark teeth seekers, “Shark Teethers!”

From Charleston to Edisto, to Hunting Isle,

When they find that tooth, they really put on a smile!

Although they may have jars of teeth back on a shelf,

They just keep on ‘a searchin’–they want more for themself,

Huntin’ and ‘a searchin’ just to find what they seek:

They’re the shark teeth seekers, “Shark Teethers!”

A hundred million years ago all over the sound

Those teeth were all in sharks, just a swimmin’ around

And if a tooth would fall out when a shark took a bite,

Another one would grow back in almost overnight….

So, if you’re at the beach and you go for a walk,

And you don’t feel like swimming, you don’t want to talk,

Just walk real slow, keep your eye to the ground,

And before you’ve gone too far that first tooth you’ll have found

Don’t worry that they’ll all be gone, they’re still bein’ made,

You’re a shark teeth seeker, Shark Teether

A shark teeth seeker, Shark Teether

A shark teeth seeker, Shark Teether……

Copyright 2019 (or 1980+/- just can’t say!) by Stephen V. Geddes, Aiken SC

Fearful of death,
determined to live forever,
impossibly worried,
blind by half,
we scurry through
the scattered alleys of life.
In our time of youth,
not enough time,
rarely enough money,
hardly enough love,
grasping at ends,
scarcely ever enough.

Adulthood
finds us pursuing religion,
politics and careers,
running downhill,
fornicating,
procreating,
recreating,
scorched in a pyre of ignorance,
tangle-fires of youth.
We struggle to earn enough,
be enough,
realize we haven’t learned enough,
paid enough attention before,
thought we knew it all,
frustrated
that our children know too much
about the wrong things,
refuse to listen
to what we have learned.

Nearer to and acutely aware of death,
fearful there is not time enough
to protect and teach them to survive,
we worry the empty rooms
of elders passed.

Graying and balding,
regretting, forgetting,
slowing, going down,
sentimentally elemental,
we are overcome
by chance thought
that what has been
may be enough.

Our spirits prepare us to journey,
leave our feet behind
on worried paths we have trod.
We begin to remember
cocoon water births
with new eyes,
caress what is left,
our lovely children and life mates,
that we may tell them in our going
the joy of knowing
they are the all and ever,
more than enough.

As I’m going up
Your going down

We lock eyes
But you didn’t
Have the Keys 🔑
To Unlock
What I was feelin inside

You look like the same guy who lied 🤥
That always had somethin
To hide

“bitch
just give this guy
A try (Conscience Speaking)

I’ll be lying to Myself
If I told him
This could work
Now he’s begin to flirt

Excuse Me
I have more important things to do
Then to Waste
My Time……
My Life
My Energy
With approaches
Of a guy
That’s interested
Excuse Me

I’ve invested
In this type
Before
and ended up being
Annoyed 😣

Then I begin to Ignore
What I’ve Been
Craving
MySelf

Won’t be Brave

Excuse Me
I can’t be Save

Excuse Me
Don’t even Wave

Excuse Me
I haven’t Forgave

Excuse Me
I’ve been Betrayed

Excuse Me
I can’t explain

Excuse Me
Let’s just get a Milkshake

I seen this episode
Before
Nd it Always
End
With
A Hand Shake

Every Guy
Is A snake
Nd ur name is ??

This is Already
A Mistake

Excuse Me

As the chaos of the clamour fades
And the echoes of the moral dissonance
Ripples like the stone cast

Soon, the silence emerges Rest!
And I can breath again
Slowly, soothing harmonies emanate

A new song in the key of life,
which resonates with the sound of
SERENITY

I bent down to pick them up
as reached into the opaque fog
I disappeared in the opalescence
and my footsteps faded into memory
when I reached into the opaque fog
I told myself that some dreams are more real than others
and my footsteps faded into memory
only fleeting vapors remained
I told myself, some dreams are more real than others
when the light particles disintegrated
only fleeting vapors remained
with the bones of a whale on the beach
the light disintegrated
and I disappeared in the opalescence
with the bones of the whale on the beach
I bent down to pick them up

a river can have rocks within it
or a sheet of ice going across its surface
or the water can be too warm
that it forms a hurricane
and starts destroying everything
but the point is
you have the power to change me.

you can make my world
heat up
with your cigarette smoke
or higher my vibrations
with your prayers
or inspire passion
with your touch
the point is
I can change the world too.

…

Bio:
HI there, my name is Rejjia Camphor and I am from Baltimore, Maryland. Many people pronounce my first name wrong but I pronounce it like (Ruh-G-Ugh), like it rhymes with Momma Mia! At 22, I graduated with a B.A. degree in Creative Writing, Visual Culture and Women’s Studies from Hampshire College. I have an array of passions but am best known for my hugs, my personality, my poetry and some pretty wild experiences. Right now, I am hoping to center my creative work and writing around the ontology of language, blackness, mental health and healing.

The moment of your loved one’s passing is surreal.
All the things you wanted to say hang there in that moment.
Tears cloud your thinking. You’re not sure he can hear you.
“I love you” becomes your mantra as you attempt to squeeze
Into those words all you always wanted to say but never did.
You hold him tightly as if you can prevent him from leaving.
As he struggles with his final breaths, your mind slips
Into a strange place. Your world has changed before your eyes.
All you knew would happen but never wanted to acknowledge
Is now impossible to ignore. Your mind falters for a moment.
Then your love for him shakes you loose. You rise to the occasion.
You do the things for your loved one you did every day.
You wash his hair. You shave him. You bathe him.
You kiss him one more time. You give him the dignity he deserves.
Then you call hospice and watch them carry out their duties.
You sit nearby and wonder if he’s still there, watching over you.
You rise and go to him. You touch his body gently, caressing him.
You kiss him one last time as they enter the room with a stretcher.
They lift him gently from the bed and wrap the sheet over him.
Your heart tugs, knowing you will never see him again.
His smile, those eyes in which you swore you could see his soul
Would only be memories and images, pixels for you to cherish.
Then they drape a flag cover over his body as your tears flow.
You weep for your own loss and for all the things he wanted to do still.
He was so much more than he even knew and moved the hearts of many
In ways that can’t be written in an obituary. He was a gentle, kind man.
You wonder if your life can go on without him. Tears come often.
Then you remember how much he believed in you without condition.
It strengthens you and commits you to living your life to the fullest
As you know he would want you to do – to make a new beginning.
He will never be gone. He lives in your heart and in the thoughts you think.
You went through the good times and the bad over the years, but
No matter what, you came out on the other side together.
Even though you’re separated by a veil, it can’t rip away your connection.
He’ll always be there for you, no matter the path your life takes in the future.
He is your best friend, the love of your life. His memory is in your every cell.

©2020 Dannye Williamsen