DAY 3 (A Sketchy February)

Dear Mother!
This is the wind I have become,
blowing the name you bore me till a hand held me
tight never to lose me
the same way you told the Devil never to hold me
in those little pocket prayers you said while you tied your wrapper to God
holding me by his name.
I finally found that trees have roots that lead towards the heaven,
it’s why they never move.
Although! Your son moved, his sun moved too
he found a moon and gave her his light
the songs you hear is about me—the fallen knight
Black Adam from a soft Earth
blood in my tongue for where I come from.
So mother, I have found a new name
in the caves of hearts that are blacker than dark,
their fire keep me burning
and that is why, I must write to you
to remind you that no matter the hiding of the weevil in a cup of beans
the boiling water will reveal it in its death.
I will not die, cause I have held death by it’s brim
and it flirted with me.


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