Do Not

Don’t make me mask my pain
Act like life’s okay
Or give me reason to apologize for who I am

I wear the shackles and chains of my ancestors as precious heirlooms
Their wounds; I wear on my feet
Never treading lightly
Cautiously moving
I bask in the freedom they once hoped for

Don’t make me mask my beauty!
Contrite for my color
In despair for my thighs
Overly self-conscious for my wide back side

I carry the hips
From which nations were born
Full lips beget kisses
Or to release venom and scorn
This voice sounds off
Like trumpets and horns
How dare you attempt to silence me?

Don’t make me mask anything!
My joy…my pain…my beauty…my essence
My past…my future…my present

I stand before you unconditional
And unapologetic in this vessel designed fearfully by God

Who am I to cover his master piece?

Untitled.

Somewhere inside these Blues eyes
My young sorrow thrives

I hold my pains captive
Like the winds that blow east on Tuesdays

I know I’m 60 years too late

I play
Not for you…but for me

Because I still get Dizzy
Speaking this language most can’t decipher

I live my life longing for:

Long riffs
Smoky notes flowing through the air
And cool brass on my finger tips

(Written about a Young Ohio boy that can play the Jazz Trumpet like no other.)

She Sings To Me...An Ode To Billie

Sultry songs sooth seconds as they pass
My flag
Is at half mast for her
Who?
Lady Day
Melodic notes resound in the back of my mind when her presence graces my thoughts
She left me too soon
To the tune
Of Blue Turning Grey Over You…
Had to see her
To believe her
She didn’t wish on stars
She wished on the moon:
The only thing that could keep her grounded
Because she stayed higher than the cost of living
She could no longer foot the bill
Still my mind drifts to her every now and then
Getting off the train
At the same place where my mother began