were these birds
singing to me
this whole time?
is that blood
beneath my skin?
is that the sun’s light
caught on a lily pad?
am i every Black artist
discovering Earth
for the first time?
how can i meet nature
everyday
and not write about her?
do i serve any more purpose
than the lily pad
reflecting
the sun’s light?
am i escaping the fear
of everything
i write
being written
before?
does the sun’s light
on my skin burn?
or is it just caught
there?
until
it becomes night
how come dusk
only comes
once a day?
how can i greet dusk
with kindness?
do i just sit in this smile
all day long?
since the sun came up?
