I know my time want be long…
Sitting in limbo shows up life's complexities, lacking
the faith that I was taught to heavily lean on.
Life's ripples and waves challenging me to ride.
Now I'm missing my sister's laugh, as well as her frowns and sighs.
Where gone her light. Can't see her point finger signaling bright lights
big city, as Jimmy Reed harp, and wine going right to her head.
Nowadays, I'll miss your late night phone calls and your moans but, I'll walk
the streets you can't walk; cry the cries you can't cry: dance the dances
you can't dance...Still, I'll miss your fingers playing the piano and hearing your songs.
I'll miss your buttery cornbread baked from scratch, even shed oceans of tears for your fears then stir their den, chasing them away...I'll chase everyone of those pesky phobias that you couldn't keep at bay.
Now big sis! My ubiquitous spirit guide tells me to pay attention to 4 sisters who'll live and die as one…Momma made this truth for us to keep shinning like diamonds until we die.
In each last day, family will circle each bed, hands wringing, and throwing back heads trying to make sense of the mess we made.
Momma and Papa are long gone to dust. Can we sift and strain to separate
the basics of their mess? An unanswerable question to which they left to
5 boys lone gone, who left us all their mess, and Sis Ira yours nevertheless.
Now, can the 3 hearts left equal hearts of nine?
Now, how can love of 3 equal all those broken hearts and wringing hands?
Are the cries of 3 sufficient for forgiveness for those before, too?
We-3 know too well, we lack fear for now, and time to come we do declare:
We've climbed the mountains and leaving our bumps.
We've weathered storm leaving dry for weathering own.
We've blundered in darkness, now, leaving those behind light.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem