The finest grains

Is the question as important as the fight to find the answer? How do you know to fight if you have not experienced the answer.. yeah I remember you Tempe

I remember Mesa .. the long walks the time I vanished from myself .. removed myself from you .. looking for a release .. never settling for me .. I never learned enough of me to like me .. oh the dismissal of self regulation. I would eat enough to kill myself and somehow… live in that light… the definition of Grace.. etched in my footsteps and all those that tirelessly followed, opening and closing doors as I wandered.

The question

Born and then

Life and then

The question ignored.. and then

A sweetness.. a long summer of fleeting connection.. over and over and over again.

I spilled all that Brandy .. and choked down a Russian black beauty. I found myself inside a gorgeous model of how a woman makes it .. all the while wandering.. missing you. My son. My daughter.. the one.

I was seated in Portland finding out the truth of trust and the mysteries of emotions. Running still .. did I stop growing at 12? 13… where is the man years .. Screaming across that rooftop.. one kitchen knife and one scared you…

To confess feels like reliving .. the spin of the reel.. the opening night of life’s film… filmmaker and the finale…

Now I’m careful to pull every grain from my carpet .. slow and intentional.. and I miss the chaos of my most tragic years ..tragic.. all that karma.. still protected by the eagles feather .. karma .. still spun out dry and pure by the beauty of this dimension.. the calm of this world.. cause the world lies still.. we mark the waves .. by riding them… they are not for us… truthfully.. truthfully we are only for the question.. and we cease to be when we answer it

Art credit: Damilola Marcus aka Damilola Onosowbo Marcus (Nigerian, b. 1993, Lagos, Nigeria) — Homegirls I, 2021, Paintings: Oil on Canvas