“Word Souls”

I’ve always been a skeptic of this concept we call “time”. I think it holds -it possesses- way too much leverage over us considering how flat, and 2-dimensional it seems. I don’t think it’s 2-dimensional at all. Way too much happens inside it. People’s lives change in an instant -a moment; inside a mere flake of time.

I close my eyes at night time and run through worlds and places I’ve never seen, spend time with people I’ve never met -then wake up back inside this timeline, seven hours later. Nope. I just don’t buy it. This “time” thing is not what she seems to be.

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On the day I was born, winter and spring were at odds; at least in our part of the world, they were. A fresh, new President was in office, and the very air of every U.S. city vibrated inside aromas of hope, and change, and pride. I would join our own little rank and file -”armed” forces that we were- mighty in mind and might. Black pioneers -2 adults, 1 infant- with the most torrid of timelines stretched before us.

I know you all were mother and father to me, but somehow we knew that timeline would make three. Perhaps it’s like this when every baby’s born; where timelines draw pathways to the doorsteps of each womb. They wait patiently for each arrival, and then accompany each family from there. Why? Why then? Why us?

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…my mother sips coffee on a porch that overlooks heaven’s garden…

…my mouth starts mouthing words without my intent

…my father spins yarns of candle smoke into brilliant diamond terrains…

…and word-worlds move inside my spirit like aches…

…this flesh, first loosens …then evaporates…

….while swirls of wind build quiet, inside my chest.

It resides in the eyes of the person who isn’t there. I see her cheekbones, the nose, and mouth, and chin. I see locks of thick brown hair lifting in the breeze. I see eyebrow hairs as still as wet summer air. But there’s no one there …there’s no one there.