Spending time with the timeless
By Shamika
When my body gets weary,
I sit a while with Rosa
We talk about how hard we worked
and agree its good to get off our feet
When I lose my sense of purpose
I pontificate with Malcolm
He always seems to have
a word or fresh view
When I need to clear my head
I take a healthy stroll with Martin
Walking with him invigorates me
from the inside out
When I am old
and young at heart
who will spend time with me?
I gather rather
it all depends
on how I spend my time now
What will I work so hard at
That I am too resolved to move?
What plans and purpose
will bring me clarity of mind?
What in my life
shall move me and those around?
Young black girls
not yet told of their beauty
Young black boys
deserving of a dignified masculinity
The reassurance of the experienced
that they are leaving the world in capable hands
Future
By Shamika
I glance longingly ahead
The light piercing through my sunglasses
Everything I have worked for
All the sacrifices I have made
Culminating into a moment
That will never quite come
Until the end, as far as I’m told
There will always be a tomorrow after today
So when I need a pick me up
I cuddle with my well-worn thoughts
Thumb through the threadbare scenarios
Exist in the ethereal space out of time
In my mind
When it comes
will I know it?
Amidst the goings
and comings of life
How does one ascertain
they have arrived?
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