Thinking on the dock of this bay
You love me
Tattooed in your tears is our destiny
you clutch me tight
like hands that repeatedly lost their love and dignity
to the bowels of chattel slavery
I’m coming home baby
I love you
We were built for each other
Carefully weaved in the kink of our curls
Links to trails
and tears and tribulations not our own
bodies that bled for us
The Spirits that wrote this song
I promise I’m coming home,
And I finally know.
I finally know,
Lessons of our History finally purposeful
Our love an act of resistance and graceful salute to staying true to our roots
Buried deep beneath dysfunction
Diasporaed across complexions
that don’t mean a thing
but also are everything
Mahognated affirmations for those assassinated for their melanin
So I will paint you in broad strokes and leave you much room for error cuz,
no matter what was left behind somewhere between home, and the shores of our heritage
you never seemed to lose the twist of our tongue in the pilgrimage
Never seemed to forget how to catch me as I stumble my way to sage, wobbling to wisdom, falling ever so slightly from grace
and guide me home with the firm of your fingers imprinted on the small of my back.
We were familiar, long before we met.
Beloved, betrothed, bedazzling black.
I have loved you in and out of time and of that I will never grow tired.
I love you.
I promise I’m coming home
8.10 4:30 AM flight to Oakland